Better Left Unsaid
by russianwinter013
Summary: Starscream is the leader of the Decepticons while Megatron is in a catatonic state. He summons two Decepticons, Deathstrike and Breakdown. Starscream becomes wary of the new additions, mainly Deathstrike. He is feral and mysterious, and has many dangerous secrets. There's something better off not knowing, something...better left unsaid.
1. Chapter 1

"Lord Starscream, the mission was a failure," the Vehicon Commander informed the heeled Deceptivon. "The Autobots raided the mine and retrieved the Energon before my pick-up arrived."

"Must I do everything myself?" Starscream growled, his wings rising. "I'm surrounded by fools!"

"It was not my intention to-"

"Just leave!"

As the Vehicon Commander left, Soundwave approached on silent pedes.

"Ah, Soundwave, what is it you need to tell me?"

"Tell," Soundwave played back in Starscream's voice. An image of a burning object crashing to Earth appeared on his featureless face.

"Can't you make it any clearer?"

The image vanished.

The Seeker vented heavily. "Do you have Laserbeak tracking it?"

Feed from the Mini-Con appeared on his face. It was a trail following a crater where the object had landed.

"Investigate and report, then," Starscream ordered. "Take the troopers with you. If it is an Autobot...well, you know what to do."

Soundwave turned away and left.

* * *

"Do you really think this is a good idea?" A massive Cybertronian paced the length of the ship, servos linked behind his back. "An unannounced visit doesn't cheer the big guy up at all."

"Quit worrying." A smaller Cybertronian steered the ship through a sea of asteroids. "We owe him and what be better than to return?"

"It would still be better is it was announced," the other muttered. "Can they even trace our signal so we can notify them?"

"No. There have been rumors of a group of Autobots that will attack if we are detected."

"Since when are you scared of Autobots?"

The driver growled. "I am not 'afraid', as you call it. I do not want damage to my ship."

"Your ship has been through hundreds of battles. A group of Autobots compared to it are nothing but a bunch of gnats."

The driver turned. His optics blazed in the dim light. "Exactly."

An alarm sounded and the ship rocked precariously. The massive one stumbled, using a chair for support though he still ended up on the floor.

"What's going on?!"

"We've entered this planet's atmosphere. Once we land, they should be able to detect us."

"Should?"

"You do not trust me?"

"For anyone you meet, it's better not to trust you than to do so."

"Touche." 

"Optimus, there is something you should see."

The Prime approached as Ratchet brought up an image.

"This is as clear I can get it. Humans have horrible satellite imagery," the medic said with a scowl as the hazy image focused. "It seems to be a ship, but its affiliation is difficult to make out."

"We will investigate," the Prime replied. He faced the waiting Autobots-Arcee, Bulkhead and Bumblebee. "Transform and roll out."


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello! So here's Chapter 2 of _Better Left Unsaid. _**

**_I STRONGLY SUGGEST READING DEATHSTRIKE'S BIO ON MY PROFILE PAGE BEFORE READING THIS!_**

**Warnings: Characters may seem OC.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except Deathstrike, Blackstand, and my ideas.**

**Anyways...enjoy!**

* * *

"Can't you make the landing any smoother?"

"Breakdown, I swear if you bother me one more time," the mech at the wheel growled. "This would be going a lot better if I was not the only one driving."

"You told me not to touch the controls!"

"I am revoking that order for now. Quit complaining and get over here."

"Fine, no reason to bite my head off."

"Keep talking and it will be more than a suggestion."

As Breakdown seated himself, the ship rocked again. The driver adjusted the internal coolers, turning to stare at the other mech.

"What?" Breakdown glanced at him after a few moments of tense silence.

The mech said nothing, his gaze not straying.

"Deathstrike, why are you staring at me?"

Silence was his answer.

"We have to steer this ship correctly—unless you want to be scrap metal—so _tell me why you're staring at me_."

Deathstrike stirred, turning back to the controls. His digits executed an unidentifiable rhythm on the dashboard. Breakdown could not notice the mech's claws, weapons that had done a number of things that couldn't have ended in a mech's well-being.

"And now you are staring." His deep voice startled him.

"What?"

"I was staring, then you were staring at him. Care to explain why?"

"I wasn't—"

"—yes, you were." Despite the danger occurring outside, Deathstrike was now, once again, staring, which was rather unsettling with his emotionless composure.

"I don't want to—"

"—talk about this? I did not wish to speak about my reason and now you do not wish to."

"Can we focus on not being burned alive?!"

Breakdown expected turn to become irritated, but he was answered by a low laugh. The mech had turned away and focused on the control of their landing.

He vented.

It was going to be a long trip.

* * *

"Lord Starscream, we have arrived at the crash site," Blackstand, one of the higher-ranked Air Force Vehicons, informed.

"_Soundwave is the one to report_!" the Decepticon spat.

The said Decepticon remained silent as he searched the area, helm slightly tilted.

"_Have you located the ship yet_?"

"No, my liege. We will continue searching."

"_Do not waste valuable Energon. If you find nothing but corpses, burn them_."

"Very well."

* * *

Breakdown woke with a splitting processor ache. As his optics readjusted, he checked his external and internal status. Nothing was broken, though his body would be sore for a while. A few minor cables in the back of his neck were sprained, but nothing else was damaged.

"Deathstrike." His voice came out in a hoarse tone. No one replied.

"Deathstrike." He repeated the name with more strength, forcing himself up with a groan as his joints realigned. He was surprised when he saw no one in the driver's seat.

"There is no point in staring at an inanimate object like that." A deep voice came from somewhere in the ship. "If I am not there, I am not there. No sense in occupying your mind with such a useless task." Breakdown looked up and stared.

Deathstrike was hanging from the ceiling, legs wrapped around a beam that fell from the ceiling during the crash. His servos were elbow deep in a massive crack in the foundation, and Breakdown could see the injuries he had acquired. Gashes outlined his frame, Energon leaking from them and dripping to the floor. One major cut ran along his servo and wrapped around to the small of his backstrut; Breakdown noticed this whenever he pulled and his servo from the tangle of wires he was fixing. Sparks shot from them, landing in his wounds and visibly heating the mech's blood. Breakdown was surprised that he did not flinch, and that he could balance so, even with his wings.

"What are you doing up there?"

"Repairs, what does it look like?"

"How can you work with those injuries? You need a medic!"

"What injuries?"

Breakdown glared, and at the mech's silence, Deathstrike looked down, taking in the other's expression with a look of boredom. After a moment, realization flashed in his optics.

"You mean _these_?" Deathstrike pointed to the gashes on his frame. "I had not noticed."

"You don't notice your own injuries but you rush to fix your ship's?"

"You know the answer to that."

"Where did we crash?"

"I do not care where we landed." The mech twisted in a bizarre, snakelike way, optics flashing as he stared at something through the window. "What I do care about are the glitch-heads scratching my ship." He twisted again and was now on his pedes, heading towards the window to glare out of it.

"What do you—?" Breakdown cut off as he looked outside.

A group of Vehicons milled around the ship, blasters charged as they looked around. The head of the group was a tall black and purple 'Con with huge, thin, and blade-like arms.

"Is that who I think it is?" Breakdown demanded.

"Yes." Deathstrike was behind him; he had moved in that strange, silent way. A trail of Energon shadowed the black mech.

"What is he doing on Earth?"

"He followed Megatron."

"He nearly killed him. Why would Megatron want to be stuck with him for centuries?"

"Not my problem." Deathstrike growled suddenly, leaning against the door as his vents hitched.

"What is it?"

"Nothing." The mech shoved him away, but his hand stayed on Breakdown's servo, as if he were steadying himself.

"Deathstrike, they can help us. You need a medic."

"No, I do not. I am a trained medic, and I will see to myself after I do so to my ship."

"No, you won't. I'll make you fix yourself."

"Good luck with that."

"You are such a glitch-head," Breakdown muttered. When the mech didn't reply, he asked, "Remind me why we're sitting here?"

"We're not 'sitting here'."

"Yes, we are."

"No, we're—see?" Deathstrike nodded at the window.

Breakdown turned to see the tall Decepticon looking straight at him. What surprised him was that he had no face, just a black screen with no features. A chill traveled its way down his spine as he made a mental note to challenge the mech before him.

"Quit gawking." Deathstrike pushed past him and entered a code into the keypad. The door hissed open, meaning as its hinges bent at the strain.

The black and purple mech continued to watch them as they stepped out into the clearing. The troopers surrounding him turned; at the sight of them they raised their blaster, preparing to fire.

"Easy there," Deathstrike reassured them, his wings high and immobile.

"We're on your side," Breakdown added, raising his servos.

The mech tilted his helm slightly, but it was unclear what emotions were going through his processor.

"Who would you be?" Deathstrike addressed the mech with an air he normally reserved for his victims. Breakdown silently hoped he wasn't planning it.

The mech remained silent as a whirring filled the area. A bird-like Mini-Con flew down, rearranging its body as it connected to the silent mech. He turned away, a Ground Bridge appearing in front of him.

"Did he just…?" Breakdown narrowed his optics.

Deathstrike growled, warning his companion not to continue. As the Vehicons filed through the portal, the silent mech faced them, seeming to stare. After a moment of silence, the Decepticon pointed to the Bridge.

"You want to come with you?" Breakdown said.

The mech nodded once, slowly and surely.

"Megatron won't be pleased," Breakdown continued. "Are you sure?"

The mech turned away and entered the portal.

"Strange…," Breakdown said, facing his companion.

Deathstrike snarled, narrowing his gaze as his optics blazed. Breakdown recognized the feral hunger in his stare.

"Deathstrike, don't do what I think you're going to do," he hissed, grabbing his servo. The Decepticon jerked away, glaring at the Cybertronian with a hint of insanity.

"I know you haven't…you know…in a while," he continued, "But you can't—at least, not yet. Let's wait until we get settled, and then you can later."

Deathstrike stared at him, the red in his optics blazing. After a moment of silence he nodded. "Do not expect promises."

Breakdown vented as he entered the portal. He'd have to keep an optic on him.

* * *

The _Nemesis _was huge, bigger than remember. Servant, Air Force, and Ground Force Vehicons crowded the area, running around like Scraplets to get their leader's orders fulfilled and to escape his wrath.

"_Follow_." The faceless mech spoke in a robotic voice that was out of place with his intimidating composure. Breakdown glanced at Deathstrike, who was standing with narrow optics. Breakdown could tell by the icy look on his faceplate that Deathstrike was already mapping his attack.

"Deathstrike," he muttered. "You don't want to be restrained."

"Try and you will be first," the mech growled, following the faceless mech with Breakdown trailing after him.

Their guide stopped at a door, seeming to freeze in place. The two glanced at each other after a minute of silent waiting. Breakdown was the one who spoke.

"Are you—?"

The mech straightened, as if coming to attention, and the door whipped open. He entered, glancing over his shoulder and expecting them to follow.

"The big guy has his own private quarters?" Breakdown paused. Deathstrike froze outside, glaring inside at something. Breakdown saw the fury blazing in his optics. "Deathstrike, what is it?"

Deathstrike growled, dentia bared in a scowl. Breakdown pushed past him.

Starscream stood at the head of the room, ordering every Vehicon around while monitoring their every move with his deep red stare.

"_Tell_." The faceless mech spoke, startling the Seeker.

"Soundwave, you know not to—" As he whipped around, he froze. His gaze was fixed on Deathstrike and Breakdown.

"What are you doing here?" His optics widened at the sight of the two.

"_Decepticons_," Soundwave played in Starscream's voice.

"Never mind that!" the Seeker snapped. He pointed his finger at Deathstrike; it was shaking in fear. "What are you doing here?"

Deathstrike said nothing, grinning sadistically.

Starscream growled, though his wings lowered.

"Where is our liege? Breakdown and I have matters to discuss with him."

"_I _am leader of the Decepticons now," Starscream snapped. His pride gradually returned and his wings rose.

Deathstrike stared through narrowed optics. "_You_?"

"You've got to be kidding me," Breakdown added, crossing his massive servos.

"Why is this so hard for everyone to accept?" the Seeker growled. "Megatron's spark has been extinguished—it is no more. He is gone."

"Well the, Commander Starscream," Deathstrike said, leaning against a nearby wall. "I suggest you tell us what happened."

* * *

**As I warned you earlier, the characters may seem OC. I didn't want Breakdown to be a brute (but yes, he'll still kill it on the battlefield). I guess you can say this story shows his "nicer" side...if you can call it that. *rubs hands together and grins evilly***


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello! More BLU! (haha, blu...blue). **

**Disclaimer: I Do Not Own Transformers (unfortunately)**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"How long has our liege been like this?" Deathstrike circled the comatose warlord.

"A week or two," the Seeker responded.

Deathstrike whipped around, optics blazing. "And you are just now calling me because…?"

"There were more important matters."

"More important than the well-being of our leader?" Deathstrike's optics began to glow brighter.

"That isn't the point!" Starscream growled. "We are here to see how he is doing, so how is he doing? Soundwave is to document this for further referencing."

"His body is suffering from a multitude of internal and external injuries. Despite this, there is still evidence of brain wave activity. He is, to put it, alive inside."

Starscream looked to Soundwave, who merely turned and left.

Or rather, he left _Starscream_ with _Deathstrike_.

"What are you really doing here?"

Deathstrike continued his work. "What ever do you mean?"

"You did not return just for our lordship. What is it that you want?"

The other turned, his black and red gaze burning a hole into the Seeker's core. "It would be your concern how?"

The Seeker's deep red gaze burned as he crossed his servos. "Don't play stupid, Deathstrike. I know you. Anyone who does recognizes the fact that you don't care for anyone." He approached the medic, wings raised high. "So tell me, dear doctor, what are you really doing here?"

Deathstrike completely faced the newly appointed Decepticon leader. His optics were narrow and blazing, the look on his faceplate dangerous and feral. He said nothing as he advanced on his superior, who backed away, wings dropping. The medic had been like this before, centuries ago…

_Starscream strolled down the walkway, deep in thought over the recent events that had occurred. A roar echoed throughout the complex, startling him. Lord Megatron was enraged._

_The Autobots had attacked Tyger Pax, their current refuge, barely a breem ago; not even a full orn. They had been desperate for news, for Energon, for anything._

_Starscream smirked._

_They had given it their all, but it hadn't been enough._

_He paused near a door. Shouts of desperation and incitement came behind._

_The interrogation had begun._

_Soundwave had recently captured the Autobot scout Bumblebee, after finding him sneaking through the drain pipes in a futile escape attempt. Their fight was brief, as the scout was no match for the master spy and warrior. Soundwave had nearly killed him, and would have done so, if Starscream had not stopped him. The spy was terrifyingly ruthless and violent, traits that were only enhance by his Vow, as well as other things. _

_ "__We need him," Starscream had insisted. "Lord Megatron will want him for questioning. You can have him after."_

_The spy tilted his helm at the Air Commander. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking, as his featureless face and noiseless movements revealed nothing. After a moment of silence—hoping, in Starscream's case, that the spy would not turn and attack him instead of their unconscious foe—Soundwave nodded._

_Coming from his thoughts, the lieutenant entered the room, his auditory receptors harassed by the screams of the tortured, the dying-all results of Soundwave's telepathic abilities and Megatron's rage, all a constant reminder of the power of the Decepticons._

_The Autobot was strapped to a berth that had been moved to the center of the room. He was venting heavily, Energon covering his black and yellow frame. Next to him was Deathstrike, their medic and assassin, servos crossed and a black, venomous look on his faceplate. His right servo was transformed into its circular buzzsaw, Energon covering its lethal teeth. Starscream realized that it had been the doctor who had injured the Autobot, not Megatron. He could see the feral hunger and insanity hidden deep in the assassin's gaze and knew _**it **_was barely restrained._

_ "__Starscream, how good of you to join us." Megatron's deep, gravelly voice sounded from the shadows. "Let us begin." Moving forward with long, menacing strides, the Decepticon leader grasped the Autobot's throat, tearing him from the restraints and raising him high. The scout hissed in pain as his injured chassis was moved, hands scrabbling at the enormous servos that held him. _

_ "__Let me go, you—"He cut off as the warlord's grip tightened, claws drawing Energon from the conduits on the scout's throat._

_ "__You would be wise to watch your tongue, Autobot," the Decepticon leader growled. "I am not in the mood and am still deciding how useful you are to our cause."_

_ "__You're slagging crazy if you think that I would ever help you!" the Autobot gasped, Energon running down his throat._

_ "__Oh, but you will, dear Bumblebee." Megatron laughed; it was a dark, rumbling sound that would always send terror down Starscream's spinal component._

_Bringing Bumblebee close to his faceplate, with his fang-like teeth bared, Megatron growled,_

_ "__Where are the Autobots?"_

_The scout's optics widened, and a harsh bark escaped his vocalizer, a sound similar to a mocking laugh. "Like I'd…ever tell…you." His vocalizer gurgled with the Energon rising in it._

_Megatron growled and threw the prisoner to the floor._

_ "__Take him outside," he ordered a squadron. "All will see what happens when I am disobeyed." He left, followed by Soundwave, leaving Starscream with Deathstrike._

_ "__You should be more careful around the others," he told the medic. "You could have snapped."_

_Deathstrike vented harshly. "I know what I am doing. I have it under control."_

_ "__No, you do not. You cannot simply waltz in here looking ready to offline the nearest drone."_

_ "__Theirs is bland," the assassin remarked, "But I cannot attack a regular." A mad glint sparked in his optics, and a realization hit the lieutenant._

_ "__You have already done do," he stated, optics wide._

_A low rumbling noise came from the Decepticon, his black and red optics burning. "I may or may have not." He faced the Air Commander. "You tell me." _

_Venting in irritation, Starscream scrolled through his mental archives of who Deathstrike despised—which was nearly everyone._

_ "__Skyquake," he said eventually. "You attacked Skyquake."_

_Deathstrike snarled, a sound fit for a being like him. "The big lug cannot watch where he is going or what he does."_

_ "__That is not a good reason."_

_ "__I did not say it was or was not."_

_Ignoring that statement, he vented. "Where is he know?"_

_ "__Air patrol , where else?"_

_ "__That is not what I mean." He crossed his servos._

_Deathstrike faced him, an annoyed look on his faceplate. At that moment, the door opened. Blackgarnet, the mysterious tactician, weapons specialist, and spy second in rank to Soundwave appeared._

_ "__Lord Megatron grows impatient," the black and red Decepticon stated. " He wish to know what is taking so long."_

_ "__I am of higher authority than you," Starscream growled at the warrior. "You will respect me."_

_Blackgarnet scowled. "Do not play rank, Starscream. We are both warriors."_

_ "__I am second in command!" the heeled lieutenant roared. In his peripheral vision, he noticed Deathstrike stiffen, optics flickering from light to dark, light-dark. The look that symbolized something…_

_Something… _

_ …__That look. _

_Look…_

An excruciating pain tore through the lieutenant, tearing him from his reverie. As his optics readjusted, he took in his surroundings, one above him catching his attention the most.

Deathstrike stood glaring down at him, optics blazing and Energon staff in servo. In the background, Breakdown stood at a computer, monitoring whatever was on its screen.

"What do you think you are doing? You cannot attack you commanding officer!" Starscream shouted, leaping to his stabilizing servos. "What am I doing here? Why was I on the floor?"

"Pass out on my floor again and you will _become_ the floor!" Deathstrike growled, his wings raised.

"We're in the medical bay! This is not 'your floor'!"

"No, we are not. We are in my lab." He motioned around them at the room they were in. they _were_ in his lab.

"How did I get here?"

"Breakdown and I were already here," the medic said, motioning to his assistant. "Blackstand found you in a forced stasis in the meeting room, so he brought you here so I could check and make sure nothing is wrong." Deathstrike's optics narrowed. "Unfortunately, there is no life-threatening illness you have contracted. You are perfectly fine."

Starscream stared at the medic. There was something off about the way he held himself, as if he were exhausted beyond reason, but enraged at the fact that he had been bothered by something that hadn't been on significance to him. Proof of this was the fire in his optics, the smoldering inferno that contained his many secrets.

"If you are finished staring into oblivion, sir," a voice said, bringing him back to the present. "You can leave." It was Breakdown.

"I can stay as long as I desire," the Decepticon stated, crossing his servos and raising his wings.

Breakdown shook his helm. "Not today, you can't. Deathstrike needs rest."

"Oh? And what would be the cause of this?"

Breakdown's yellow optics hardened. "You know as well as I what the reason is.

Realization flashed in Starscream's processor, a smug look covering his faceplate despite his contained fear. "Confine him. Do not let him escape." He turned and left.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Breakdown called after the retreating officer. "You glitch."

* * *

He vented, in and out, slowly. It was attempting to resurface, and no matter how hard he fought, despite external appearances it would do so eventually.

_Focus. Control. Do not let it overwhelm. Do not let it break free. Risks are not an option._

Though he released it at times, at the moment, the energy needed for such a task was something he did not have.

_Focus. Control. Do not let it overwhelm. Do not let it—_

Pain tore its toxic path through him, and he inhaled sharply, claws digging into his armor.

**_Focus. Control._**

**_Control._**

The pain continued, and he forced himself to his pedes, steadying himself with a hand on the wall. Acid fire burned through his veins, tremors shaking his chassis, claws scoring the wall.

_Set me free._

_Destroy. _

_Set._

_Me. _

_Free._

* * *

**Ooh, cliffhanger! Sorry if this was boring or anything (if it was, I promise it will get better). Read and review, pleaze!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4!**

* * *

Breakdown strolled through the hall, weaving his way through the Vehicons. He had taken a break from the lab, attempting to relax and tell himself nothing was wrong.

But yet, he knew something was. With Deathstrike.

The assassin was acting stranger than usual. He was weak, that Breakdown knew, as a result of his injuries acquired from the crash, but there was—

Come to think of it—where _was_ Deathstrike's ship? He strongly hoped no one had taken it or destroyed it without Deathstrike's approval, despite it being heavily damaged from the crash. Breakdown knew Deathstrike would go berserker insane if anyone so much as _touched_ his ship without his permission.

"You." He addressed an Eradicon with huge wings. "What do you know of my partner's ship?"

The Eradicon turned, taking in the warrior before him. "Your partner is Deathstrike, correct?" His voice was deep and emotionless. Many of them were programmed that way.

"Yes."

"Time of arrival and crash?" He turned to a computer console before him.

"A few orns ago, when there was a high temperature in the area."

"We are currently above Colorado of the United States, North America." He began to type at an incredible speed that could rival Soundwave's. "Your crash site was above Jasper, Nevada, in a rocky desert area with little to no population." He paused, reorganizing the information in his processor. "Your ship is in the docking bay, guarded by Air Force Eradicons B-03 and 6-09." He faced the warrior.

Breakdown nodded in acknowledgment. "What is your designation?"

"My designation is Longscar." True to his name, black scars scored the Vehicon's faceplate, as well as his servos, neck, and chest.

"How long have you been working here?"

"Very long, sir. Long before you arrived." Longscar's voice became colder. This was not a topic he favored.

_Well, then. _"Your assistance is appreciated."

The Eradicon nodded and turned away to begin working once more.

* * *

"Deathstrike, I know where your ship is," Breakdown stated as he entered the lab.

No one answered.

It was strangely quiet, even for Deathstrike.

"Deathstrike?" He slowed his pace, turning his scanners on high. Deathstrike's signal was enhanced in a bizarre way, and it had been so for centuries. He had modified Breakdown's scanners should anything happen—and idea he had laughed at, but _now_…

"Deathstrike!" His scanner couldn't pick up the assassin's signal. Where was he?

Wait.

He was exhausted and ravenous, but did not want to let it out. Where would he go?

_Meditation._

He ran to the room in the back of the lab, the room where the assassin had built himself in order to restrain himself when he did not have the needed energy.

The large black door towered before him. Should he knock? He was concerned for Deathstrike's health, but whenever he locked himself up, it was all too obvious he desired to be alone.

"Deathstrike?"

There was no answer.

Breakdown leaned against the door, scanners on so high he could already feel a massive processor ache coming on. He knew Deathstrike was in here. Whenever he'd bothered the assassin on the ship, he'd had to be cautious, as he would most likely get hit with whatever Deathstrike had available, which included the floor itself.

Gathering his strength and courage, Breakdown entered and open command.

* * *

Starscream stood at the head of the room, Soundwave at his side. He was a little unnerved. At least when he had been Megatron's shadow, there had been something to feel. Next to Soundwave, there was nothing, nothing at all. The SIC never showed emotion. Maybe it would be better how to determine how he felt if he could see him, see how he looks.

_Looks…_

_How—_

_Starscream recognized the look in Deathstrike's gaze. The wild, violent hunger and insanity…_

_It had been released. There was no stopping it now._

_Blackgarnet noticed the lieutenant shift nervously. "What is the trouble now?"_

_ "__Do you not hear it?" Starscream tilted his helm. "Did you not receive the distress comm?" Out of the corner of his optic, he saw Deathstrike's servos unfold, claws lengthening to razor points rivaling Megatron's._

_Hurry, his mind urged. Time is not in your favor._

_ "__They must have excluded you again," he stated. "There has been an explosion in the Energon stores. You are needed." He ushered the warrior out of the lab, ignoring the nagging sensation that the weapons specialist would kill him later._

_/Breakdown. You are needed./_

_/What do you need?/ the warrior stated, sounding otherwise engaged._

_/Deathstrike./_

_/Primus, did he get loose again? Lord Megatron will have my head./_

_/No, he has not, but he is on the verge of doing so./_

_/Alright, Commander, I'm nearly there./ The line disabled. _

_He faced the assassin, who met his gaze, his black and red optics an inferno straight from the Pit. Claws extended, he stared at the lieutenant, taking in his every move with the alertness of a predator. The medic Decepticon was gone, leaving a feral, ravenous Decepticon who would, if freed, destroy any Cybertronian in his way._

_ "__Commander." Breakdown appeared in the doorway, his yellow gaze blazing in the dim light. "Where is he?"_

_ "__Still here. Don't just stand there, get in here!"_

_Breakdown smirked and entered. He froze when he saw Deathstrike, his grin disappearing. "He's never been this bad before. What did you do?"_

_ "__I did nothing."_

_Breakdown faced him, his pupil-less optics burning. "Commander, I mean no disrespect, but I know when I am being lied to."_

_ "__You accuse me of lying? How dare you!"_

_ "__No disrespect, Commander." Breakdown slowly approached the assassin, who snarled, optics narrowing._

_ "__Easy there." Breakdown kept his servos raised as his subspace opened. He slowly reached in, taking out a vial of a dark substance. "Deathstrike, I know you're still in there. Fight it. You control it, not the other way around." He approached cautiously, and it seemed to be going well enough for the lieutenant to leave, lingering nonchalantly in the hall, weapons ready should anything happen._

_A shout sounded, followed by snarling and crashing._

_What in Primus' name?_

_Back in the lab, Breakdown was glaring, one servo over a massive slash in his side. Energon poured from the wound. The massive Decepticon's chest armor was shredded, Energon covering it like a new paintjob. Nearby, Deathstrike was on the floor, motionless and seemingly unconscious. _

_ "__What in Primus' name happened?!" the lieutenant roared, wings flaring high._

_Breakdown coughed harshly, pressing his servos hard into their covered wounds, attempting to staunch the Energon flow. "He anticipated my moves. Full-out attacked."_

_ "__Did he…?"_

_ "__No. I...gave him…sedative before he could." Breakdown leaned against a wall, and Starscream saw how much energy had been taken from the warrior. _

_ "__How could I have been so stupid?"_

_The lieutenant started. "I'm—sorry?"_

_ "__It was a mistake, bringing him here. So many targets—so many victims—all able to be ended, in too little time. It'd be too little, too late."_

_Late…_

_Too late…_

"—Commander?"

He opened his optics. Before him stood Blackstand and Longscar. Soundwave stood nearby, half-blended into the shadows.

"Commander, are you alright?" Blackstand questioned.

Starscream hesitated ever so slightly, and Soundwave moved closer on silent pedes. His presence merely aggravated the Seeker, but he bit back a growl of irritation. It would only incense the spy's logic circuits.

"A processor ache, that is all." The fact was true; these blackouts made him feel as if Breakdown had smashed his helm in a couple of hundred times.

"Are you certain, sir?" Longscar said, staring intensely at his superior.

"Yes." The room lurched, but he kept himself steady. "I will head to my berth."

"Sir, the meeting—?"

"Soundwave can run it." The Seeker sensed their uneasiness, and he turned to glare at them, noticing that the spy had vanished. "I do not care for your legends. Listen to him and follow orders."

He turned and left, leaving two very confused soldiers.

* * *

**For those of you who have read Longscar's bio on my profile, I know it says he is a Seeker. I said Eradicon in this because it gives you a better picture of him. He is taller and stronger than the average Seeker, seemingly emotionless...yeah. Check him out on my profile if you have not already.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Five. Yep.**

* * *

The door opened slowly, groaning as its hinges creaked. Breakdown entered cautiously, alert for airborne objects attempting to behead.

None came.

The room was pitch black. The temperature of the air had dropped, according to his sensors. Despite the lack of movement and life, he still knew Deathstrike was here, somewhere.

Unless…

"Deathstrike?"

He sensed the slightest of movements, the smallest sound, so quiet it was if something had barely vented.

"Deathstrike."

The movement happened again as he moved slowly around the room, sensors on high alert. A tremor ran through him as he made his second round. Static made his sensors go haywire, increasing the hard pounding ache in his processor.

"Lights on."

The computer followed the command. A growl sounded, deep and feral. Deathstrike was there, crouched in a corner, hands on the sides of his helm as if attempting to stop it from exploding. Breakdown saw the tremors shaking the assassin's chassis and knew it was worse—_far_ worse.

"Deathstrike."

He shook his helm, claws scraping against the metal. They were extended, razor sharp points that could gouge out a warrior's spark chamber, and his wings were equally sharp.

"Deathstrike, you know I can help." He took towards the other, servos out in a reassuring, calming gesture.

"No, you cannot." The Decepticon's voice was deeper than normal, hoarse and quiet.

"Stop denying, you glitch-headed hard-helm." Breakdown's voice hardened. "I have helped you for eons, ever since this started. The others survived, so can you."

"The others knew what to do and where to go."

"You did as well. Don't beat yourself up about it."

"I am not—" The assassin cut off abruptly, venting out harshly. His claws dug into the wall near him, tearing deep jagged marks. Breakdown noticed the other scars the assassin had inflicted on the defenseless wall. Worry took its hold on him. There wasn't much time.

"Forget what I said Deathstrike. Listen to my voice." He moved even closer to the other. "You can fight this; I know you can. You have before. What's stopping you now?"

Deathstrike shook his helm again, coughing as a violent shudder ran through his body. He said something unintelligible. His wings twitched violently, scraping against the wall.

"You know I can't hear you."

"The _scent_." The assassin looked up. His optics were blazing, as red as the incineration chambers in the Pit. "I cannot stand it, Breakdown. It hits me every day: the drones, their life, _everything_. It is overpowering. I—" He coughed again, dry and hacking, as he shuttered his gaze.

"I can taste it, Breakdown." He drew in a ragged vent. "I can taste their life, their _souls_." He shook his helm. "How do I know I will not attack? How do you know? I can barely restrain myself." As if solidifying his statement, his wings flared violently.

"You can restrain, Deathstrike. It was my mistake for letting you convince me it was acceptable to come here when it was not."

The Decepticon opened his optics to stare at the warrior. "What do you mean?"

Breakdown's yellow gaze burned. "You know very well what I mean."

Deathstrike continued to stare. Breakdown was going to demand what was wrong when he noticed the assassin's optics: they were flickering, light to dark.

_Scrap._

The assassin stood, fangs bared and claws extended. Breakdown dodged, narrowly missing a would-be-fatal attack from claws. Deathstrike snarled, fiery optics narrow and tracking his every move. Breakdown could tell by the black insanity in the other's gaze that it hadn't been let out in a long time—and it was starving.

"Deathstrike, fight this. You can, and I know you will." He kept talking as he ran an internal scan of his subspace contents. Blaster, stun-gun, manual for the ship…

No sedative.

This was going to be harder than expected.

But it _would_ be easier if he brought in a few Vehicons and—

Something rammed into him. A razor sharp pain ran through his chest, dangerously close to his spark chamber. Deathstrike was glaring at him, optics narrow. The assassin's telepathic abilities—while nowhere near as strong as Soundwave's—were stronger than normal, enhanced only by fury,

Now was the time to panic.

He could no longer speak to Deathstrike to calm him down; he was too far gone. He didn't have time to make another batch of sedative. There was no way he could restrain Deathstrike that long, and the sedative had to be made with a special mix of enhanced Energon, one that took _too_ long for—

"What in Primus' name is going on?!"

It was Starscream.

* * *

"What is happening to cause such a ruckus?" the Seeker demanded. "I am attempting to recover from a massive processor ache and all I hear is—"He froze when he took in the scene before him. "What is going on?"

"_What_ are you doing here?" Breakdown growled. "_Get out_!"

"You do not command me!"

"I'm not—" He cut off as Deathstrike attacked again, tearing huge and deep slashes in his left servo. He gritted his dentia, trying to regain his bearings as he faced the Air Commander. "I'm not _trying_ to order you around; I'm trying to _save your life_!"

"Deathstrike cannot harm me." His wings rose to their normal haughty height.

"Starscream, I do not care for your ego right now! Unless you want to be terminated, I suggest that you leave now!"

The Seeker crossed his servos. "Are you threatening me, Breakdown?"

"_EVERYTHING ISN'T ALWAYS ABOUT YOU_!" he roared, making the other flinch and stare in surprise. Breakdown was venting heavily, fighting to stay conscious and to control his anger. His movements only opened his wounds wider, and the amount of Energon he'd lost only made him lightheaded, while his anger only increased it.

But _oh_—how Starscream was a fool.

Who in their right would investigate a strange noise coming from _Deathstrike's_ work lab? Everyone had heard of the stories and myths created by cowards—dissections, vivisections, torture, cloning? Even Deathstrike knew about them, and although he didn't do things like them, he gave the impression of doing so, just to—

Something slammed into him again, pinning him to the wall. It was Deathstrike, but physically. His claws dug into the cables of Breakdown's neck, drawing even more Energon. He gasped, shoving his servos against the assassin's chassis. The attack didn't move the other; it only made him angrier. Deathstrike snarled, his grip tightening and cutting off his opponent's ventilations as his wings fanned threateningly.

_Scrap. _Deathstrike was strong enough when he wasn't like this, but now he had enough strength to rip out the toughest warrior's spark chamber with a glance.

"Starscream," he hissed. "Leave. _Now_."

The Decepticon's wings twitched. "I—"

"I'm serious," he gasped, processor swimming. "_Get out_."

"You—"

"_For the last time, I am **not** trying to order you around_!"

"I know that," Starscream spat, voice shaking despite the angry look on his faceplate. "What I was going to say before I was rudely interrupted was that I have more sedative."

_"What?!"_ Breakdown winced as the assassin's claws tore more slashed into his protoform. He, if it hadn't been evident before the attack, completely lost it. He roared at Deathstrike, servo changing into his hammer, and brought it down on the other's helm.

"Why didn't you…say something… _earlier?"_ Now that the threat was stopped, if only for a few moments, the effect of the battle finally took its toll on him. His adrenaline was wearing down, and he felt exhaustion and the _pain_ grip him.

Starscream noticed the warrior stumble, and he was suddenly next to him, steadying the other with the surprisingly iron grip. "I didn't wish for you to know. It was a secret I carried, and I had to leave the ship to make it." He scowled. "Soundwave sees and hears everything on this ship."

"So I've…heard." Breakdown drew in a ragged vent. "Where…?"

"Here." Starscream's subspace opened, and he took out a vial of the dark, murky substance.

"How—?"

"—did I make it?" At Breakdown's look of surprise, the Decepticon leader laughed. "You think I did not know of Deathstrike's condition? How he is alive yet not?" He vented heavily. "We were colleagues, centuries ago, before the incident. After that…everything changed."

Breakdown nodded, half-conscious. "The...syringe…"

Starscream snapped to attention. "Yes, of course. Where is it?"

Breakdown said nothing, his subspace opening. Starscream took it out, filling it with the sedative. "Which site works best?"

The warrior pointed to the main conduit on the unconscious assassin's neck. "Watch for… the…fangs and…claws."

The Seeker nodded. "I know." He approached cautiously, wings twitching. Eventually, he emptied the syringe's contents, flinching whenever Deathstrike made the slightest of movements.

Breakdown gave a grunt of approval, sinking into a nearby chair. Starscream watched, his servo changing into its blaster, should anything happen.

"Will you need anything?"

The warrior huffed out a laugh, shaking his helm. "No, Commander. I am… fine."

"What of your injuries?"

"I am a medic. I will see to… myself."

"Very well, then." He turned and left.

* * *

"_Breakdown_."

He stirred, systems half charged. "Yes?"

"_Has Deathstrike recovered yet_?"

The warrior shifted from one pede to the other, checking his freshly welded scars. "He isn't here, Commander."

"_Why not? I did not give a release order_."

Breakdown vented. "He had to refuel somehow."

"_Mmm_." There was a pause. "_Call him back. You two are needed_."

"Might I ask where?"

"_There is something I must do. Your abilities are required._."

"Very well, Commander. I'll let him know."


	6. Chapter 6

**Okay, here's chapter six. It's short, and I apologize for that. **

**A/N: I kind of like dissing Earth and humans, so be prepared. I really wish I wasn't human.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"What is the deal with this?"

"I told you before—"

"Yes, but I cannot remember with this processor ache," the assassin muttered. "Where are we going?"

"I don't know. Commander supplied the coordinates, and he knows this place better than we do."

Deathstrike snarled quietly. "It would still be better if _I_ drove."

"You're not well."

"I am _fine_, Breakdown, as I keep trying to tell you."

"You weren't a few days ago."

"Which was a few _days_ ago," Deathstrike interjected, the faint scowl that was normally on his faceplate appearing. He put a hand to his helm. "Honestly, did you have to hit me so hard?"

_Better than getting my spark torn out. _"It was the best defense I could think of at the time."

Deathstrike didn't answer, staring out of the window. Breakdown could tell by the look of indifference on his faceplate that the assassin and medic was lost in his thoughts. Whenever he did this, it was impossible to speak to him—and he despised being interrupted.

The only logical—and safe—thing for him to do was drive.

* * *

"We're nearly there."

Deathstrike said nothing, only nodding. What in Primus' name was he thinking about so intensely?

"_Dock your ship here. The life forms on this planet will not appreciate a gargantuan ship landing on their aircraft, and I am not in the mood to get their disgusting flesh on my pedes_," Starscream instructed.

"I wouldn't either," Breakdown muttered. "Deathstrike, we're to land here and go the rest of they way to meet Commander."

"Does he not want us to address him as _lord_ Starscream?"

"He appears to be fine with us calling him Commander when we're not near the troops. Besides, you'll never call him lord."

"I will not." The Decepticon stood slowly, cringing as his legs unlocked. "Come on."

* * *

The Seeker stood waiting, his wings raised. He turned as he heard the sound of footsteps. Breakdown was talking to Deathstrike as he helped him over the rocks; the assassin's displeasure at this was shown, despite his legs seeming to be weaker than before their crash landing. His wings were flared to help him balance.

"It could have taken you any longer."

"We apologize if we do not live up to your standards," Deathstrike hissed. He growled as Breakdown elbowed him, his optics flashing and wings at a threatening height.

"Don't mind him, Commander. He's been in a bad mood lately."

"I can see." Starscream faced them completely, his servos linked behind his back. "I need you to recover something for me."

"And this would be…?"

"The Energon Harvester." The former lieutenant's optics glowed at the name. He motioned to a stone wall facing them. An image was engraved into the slab.

"Apparently, the humans thought it was a 'gift from the gods'." Starscream scoffed, crossing his servos. "These disgusting little flesh and meat bags are horrifyingly unintelligent."

"Is it here?" Breakdown questioned.

The Seeker shook his helm. "No. They have taken it and put in on display as if it were a trophy."

"I bet their faces would change when they see it in action," Deathstrike growled. His optics blazed brightly and his wings fanned the air ever so slightly.

Starscream cast a glance at the assassin, seemingly perturbed by his mood. "The coordinates of your next location have been logged into your ship. Retrieve the relic by any means necessary."

* * *

"Deathstrike."

"Hmm?" The assassin remained motionless, scanners on high and searching the area. He did not need a handheld scanner like Breakdown, as he was able to detect objects without one.

"Are you…okay?"

The Decepticon froze, his back to the other. It was then that Breakdown remembered that the other was a Seeker, as well as an assassin and medic, and a remarkably well one at that. But unlike others, his wings did not express how he felt. They occasionally twitched, fell, and rose, but one could not merely guess Deathstrike's mood based on his _wings._

"Why?"

Breakdown felt a wave of anger wash over him. "What do you mean, 'why'? Have you forgotten the past few days?"

Deathstrike's engine rumbled threateningly. Breakdown, somewhere deep inside, now knew to tread lightly—the other's mood was darkening. But then, so was his.

"Don't take this the wrong way; I'm only concerned." His gaze inadvertently strayed to Deathstrike's weaker leg. It still refused to heal properly, and Breakdown did not understand why—unless it was as stubborn as its owner.

"My health is fine, if that is what ails you so." Deathstrike's wings fanned the air, and the movement chilled Breakdown to the core. It was a bad thing if his _wings_ were showing how he felt.

"You know that isn't what I mean." Massive servos crossed over a massive chest, and a scowl appeared on his faceplate.

Deathstrike whipped around so suddenly that it made the other nearly trip over his own pedes. "I know what you mean, Breakdown, I am no fool! Do you think," he continued, advancing slowly on the other, his movements dark and optics concealing inner turmoil, "That I do not _regret_ what I did? I could have killed you, and would have if you had not knocked me unconscious with your hammer." At Breakdown's look of semi-shock, a cold laugh came from the assassin. "Oh, you thought I would not remember that? I was not completely changed."

"I know that, but—"

"Quiet." Deathstrike raised a servo, immediately silencing the other. His helm turned and his optics were narrow and slightly glowing.

"What is it?" Breakdown's scanners picked up a faint signal, but it was unclear on what it was.

Deathstrike said nothing, freezing in place. A low growl rumbled deep in his chassis, and Breakdown knew what it meant—keep quiet and stay alert.

They came across a rocky clearing. Faint voices could be heard on adjusted audio receptors, and static scrambled the radio waves on their comm.'s, suggesting the use of a private radio frequency. Breakdown followed Deathstrike, whose footsteps were silent as his crunched slightly on the rocky, dusty ground. He kept his gaze fixed on the assassin, on the small sensory wings centered behind his larger ones. There was always something off about him, whether his hunger set in or he was in a bad mood. But now, he was even stranger. He—

Something large and hard ran into him. Or rather, _he_ ran into _it_.

"What—?"

A low growl sounded. Deathstrike glared over his shoulder panel, a scowl on his faceplate. His fangs were exposed. Scrap, he was in a bad mood. When he knew he had Breakdown's attention, he motioned to the clearing below them.

A large green mech stood there, his massive back towards them. A handheld scanner was in his grasp, and some small life-form was scrambling around his pedes, shouting something unintelligible in a high, shrill voice.

White-hot rage coursed through Breakdown's veins. _Bulkhead! _That fat, green idiot was _here_, on this backwater planet? But then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the fury vanished, and a disturbing grin crossed his faceplate. He could _finally_ take his revenge. Oh, how he would love this! Beating his face in so hard nothing would be left except a bloody mess, twisting joints and limbs until the bones jutted out with a satisfying _crack_, hearing him scream as his armor dug painfully into his protoform as his hammer struck home again and again, the amusing sound of crunched infrastructure and armor, the entertaining screams of anguish and pain and terror as his own body buckled in on itself—yes, he would _love_ it! Yes, he could be the cruelest, though nowhere near as sadistic as—

"Quit staring." Deathstrike's low voice tore him from his gory thoughts. He was on his pedes, still staring at the massive mech. "I am picking up an Energon signal here. Collect what you find and meet me at the next set of coordinates." With that, the Decepticon turned and transformed, shooting away.

* * *

**You guys haven't complained about the Autobots in this, so I am assuming you are fine with their limited appearance? There will be more scenes with them, I promise.**

**Also, one of my reviewers said something about there not being any Knock Out in this. I figured it was _clear_ he wasn't in this, as I replaced him with Deathstrike. Don't you guys get me wrong; he is one of my favorite characters. His cowardice was amusing until a point, so...**

**My friends say Deathstrike is a softie because his wings are showing how he feels. Do any of you agree? PM or review with your answer.**

**Oh, and I just noticed an error. Earlier, when Deathstrike and Breakdown were on their ship, Deathstrike recalls Breadkown hitting him with his hammer, and then later during their argument Deathstrike acts as if Breakdown doesn't know he remembers. This is a mistake, and please ignore it. I guess you guys haven't noticed it (probably until I pointed it out) because you haven't said anything, so...**

**Read and review, pleaze!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7! Hope you like! Sorry for the long wait! **

* * *

Starscream stood on the docking bay of the _Nemesis,_ deep in his thoughts. He knew he should not provoke Deathstrike, as the assassin could hold grudges for eons and had a temper worse than Unicron's. He had been on the receiving end of his rage before, and it had not ended well.

"Lord Starscream." Blackstand and Longscar appeared behind him, seemingly out of nowhere. Primus, those brothers were unsettling even when they were _together._

"Yes, what is it?"

"Deathstrike is approaching," they informed.

As if on cue, the sound of a powerful engine reached them. A sleek, slightly-Cybertronian jet shot towards them. Deathstrike transformed, landing silently on his pedes. His optics were narrow and his claws clicked together menacingly, and his wings were raised and slightly flared. He was in a bad mood.

"Deathstrike." The Seeker in command crossed his servos. "What are you doing back?"

The other Seeker fixed his gaze on Starscream. "Breakdown is investigating an Energon signal we picked up. He will contact me if he unearths anything."

"That still does not explain your being here."

Deathstrike's optics narrowed. "Is my freedom restricted, Starscream, because I do not see the reason for me to be explaining my every action to you." At Starscream's look of black disapproval, the assassin moved closer to the other, looking down because of his greater height. "If you do not like my explanation, here is another: I am working on Megatron's injuries." He hissed, baring his fangs. "If that is fine with you." With that, he turned and left.

"A strange one," Blackstand began.

"He is," his brother finished.

"Why are you two out here? Do you not have work to do?"

"We finished," the two said in unison. They stared intently at the other, but not disrespectfully.

"Then help Soundwave monitor the communication channels for Decepticons light years away." His thoughts drifted.

"He will not need it—"

"—and is not a well worker with others."

Starscream snarled, turning on the two. "Find something to do to occupy yourselves and do not bother me again." His deep voice lowered even more, filled with enough anger to make the two mysterious brothers disappear.

* * *

Anger filled him.

No, not anger.

**_Rage._**

It was a poison that burned through his veins, enough to stir the beast from its thin slumber as he fumed. He paced the lab, gathering the required tools for repairing Megatron's external injuries. There were massive burns and cuts running over the frame of the warlord's body, and he had yet to begin working on them. Struggling to keep his vents even, he set to work, welding the shallow scrapes first; if he did not, they would get in the way of his repair to the larger ones.

The door to the med-bay opened, and his wings turned, picking up the movement and the signal of the visitor. It was Soundwave.

"What does Starscream want now?" the assassin growled, continuing his work with agile hands. The faceless mech only appeared when Starscream was too indolent to get up and do it himself.

The silent mech said nothing, instead approaching the other. His helm tilted slightly as he looked down at the other. His scanners stated that the medic's vitals were low.

Deathstrike vented. "I am fine, though I do not see how you would care."

Soundwave turned to Megatron. His question was evident.

"He has neither improved nor worsened," the other mech stated. "I am working on the smaller injuries now, but—" A tremor ran through his chassis, cutting off his sentence. The mute Communications Officer turned to see the medic keeled over, a clawed hand keeping him upright. He approached as he noticed the violent tremors racking the mech's body, not out of concern for the mech himself, but out of concern—however small it may be—for the medical division itself. Having an unhealthy medic was not a good thing.

Deathstrike sensed him coming and he straightened, snarling as his wings flared wide in an aggressive stance. Feral hunger flashed before recognition in his optics and he shook himself. Soundwave tilted his helm, defense warnings flashing in his HUD, warning him that danger was forthcoming. For him, or for the medic?

"It would be best if you were to leave now." The Decepticon's servos clenched into fists, his long claws slashing the sensitive metal. His voice was low, as if he were restraining a growl. "I have much work to do and have little time for distractions."

The former Kaon gladiator remained motionless, his curiosity and suspicion sparked. There were not that many coworkers that had the nerve to tell him to leave.

Deathstrike sensed this and fixed his gaze on him. His optics were dark, darker than he had ever seen them, and there was something hidden deep within them. His wings flared out, signaling his darkening mood. Soundwave turned away and headed for the door, deeming it illogical to include himself in an oncoming, petty dispute. But then, he was still _slightly_ curious.

He would keep his optic—so to say—on the medic. Something was not right.

* * *

**Okay, some author notes:**

**1.) For Deathstrike's jet alt-mode, he is a matte black Dassualt Rafale, with only slight hints of alien technology. Look up images of Dassault Rafales; they're _really_ cool! :)**

**2.) Longscar and Blackstand are spark-split twins, similar to Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. You can read their bios on my profile to learn more about them.**

**3.) Yes, Soundwave is suspicious of Deathstrike. He will be watching him more closely now...no, he is not a stalker.**

**Sorry for how short this is! **

**PM/review with any concerns/questions/comments! I need ideas, people...**


	8. Chapter 8

**Okay, here's Chapter 8! Sorry for the wait! (Hey, I rhymed...)**

* * *

Breakdown sped down the road, following another Energon signal he had picked up after his encounter with Bulkhead. He had not been able to terminate him as he had desired; it wasn't part of the plan, and there was no doubt that Starscream would yell at him for straying from it.

Primus, _how_ could someone have such a screechy voice? And why did he talk _so much_? Did he not know that his vocalizer sounded as if a sparkling had taken it and chewed on it? Did he _like_ the sound of his own voice? Surely it must have been hinted that others could not stand him.

Then again, the heeled Seeker did like to aggravate others.

His sensors alerted him of a nearby signal. Swerving off of the road, he followed it, coming to a stop near a museum. Pondering whether he should inform Deathstrike, he dialed his line.

_"What?"_ The Seeker's voice sounded, filled with irritation, but Breakdown couldn't help but notice the hoarse undertone.

"Deathstrike, I've found another signal. It's at the museum Commander told us about." He hesitated for a moment. "Are you okay?"

_"Truth be told, I am not so sure."_ The assassin let out a low growl, his powerful engine rumbling in accord. _"I am on my way. I need to get out of this sorry excuse for a functioning warship."_

* * *

Breakdown turned his side mirrors as his scanners picked up an approaching signal. A sleek black jet shot towards him, transforming in midair into Deathstrike. The medic's wings were raised and his optics were narrow. However, as soon as he landed on the cool pavement, his weak leg gave out, and he would have collapsed had Breakdown not steadied him.

"Deathstrike, you are _sure_ you are okay?" The massive Decepticon stared at the other in worry.

Deathstrike vented harshly, his wings twitching and batting against the other's servo. "I am fine, Breakdown. I have not refueled or recharged for some time."

Breakdown scowled. It was most likely Starscream's fault. His engine rumbled. When he got his servos around that scrawny Seeker's neck...

"I can handle this, Deathstrike. You need to rest," he assured the assassin.

Deathstrike snarled, his armor flaring slightly, or as much as it would allow with his companion holding him up. "I am going nowhere, Breakdown. You know as well as I that my condition does not show on the battlefield."

"It will if you pass out or get injured," the other snapped. "The Autobots won't give you a chance when they see your weak leg."

Deathstrike let out a low rumble, attempting to break free from his supporter's strong grasp. "Breakdown, I am able to fight, no matter my current condition." As if solidifying his statement, the Decepticon shuddered and went into a violent bout of coughing.

"Deathstrike..."

"_Enough_." The assassin flared his wings, purposely hitting Breakdown. "I am staying, and that is final."

Breakdown vented in irritation. "You can be such a glitch sometimes."

The other smirked slightly. "Yes, I know. You can be one, too." He shifted, standing hesitantly with his weight on his uninjured leg. "Come. We must be going."

* * *

"Optimus, an Energon signal has been detected," Ratchet stated. "In a human facility."

The image appeared on the computer screen. Raf, who had been sitting on his laptop, looked up. "That's in the local museum. But what is it?"

"It is emanating from this artifact." The medic showed an image of an immense marble Greek statue. A large golden orb was in the outstretched hand.

"That matches the picture on the slab," Bulkhead confirmed. "It's the Harvester."

At the kids' confused looks, Ratchet explained, "The Energon Harvester absorbs Energon from anything, be it living or inanimate. It would be useful in certain situations, but in the hands of the Decepticons..."

"Starscream would no doubt use it for his own personal gains. We must retrieve it before he does," Optimus rumbled gravely.

"But..." Raf looked up at the massive Prime. "If the Harvester can extract Energon from anything, and if you all are filled with it..."

"...Starscream would use it as a weapon." Jack crossed his arms, an expression that was half irritation and half concern crossing his face. "He could use it to suck the Energon right out of you."

"Like a portable vampire!" Miko shrieked, bouncing in the air. "Cool!"

"It would be catastrophic, Miko, not 'cool'," Ratchet snapped.

"Precisely." Optimus turned, addressing his team. "Bumblebee, Bulkhead, Arcee, you will accompany me. The rest of you -"

"W-Wait." Jack spoke up, leaning his arms against the railing near him. "Optimus, with all due respect, you guys can't just barge into a local museum and retrieve this Harvester thing. I-I mean, I know it was yours, but it _is_ stored in one of our facilities, under _our_ guard. You just taking it would be..."

"Isn't that stealing?" Raf questioned, narrowing his eyes in confusion. "That's illegal."

"Jack, I have no desire to break human laws, but if Starscream were to get his servos on this ancient artifact, the outcomes would be disastrous."

"Then send us in." When he received stares of shock, he raised a hand to rub sheepishly at the back of his head. "I-I mean, we're not twenty foot tall giant robots. We're small enough to sneak in and out without getting caught."

"That is risky," Ratchet pointed out. "We know the Decepticons will be there. Should they see the children..."

"We'll be careful," Jack assured, glancing pointedly at Miko. "We promise." Raf and Miko nodded in aquiescence.

The Prime considered the suggestion for a moment, and he eventually nodded. "Very well. I will allow this. We will be watching should anything happen."

Turning, with a nod to Ratchet to activate the ground bridge, the Prime declared, "Autobots, transform and roll out!"

* * *

**Finally, an Autobot scene! And what's going on with Deathstrike...?**

**Hope you liked! Please tell me if there are any mistakes. I typed this on my phone, so...**

**R&amp;R, pleaze!**


	9. Chapter 9

**This took longer to write than I expected...**

* * *

Breakdown continued watching his scanner, watching for the slightest change in the readings. So far, there was nothing, but they had to acquire the Harvester before the Autobots. He was torn from his thoughts as Deathstrike growled suddenly.

He looked up, thinking that he had worsened. "What is it?"

The pitch-black mech bared his dentia as he turned away, his wings flared. His optics blazed, burning insanely bright in the dim light of the darkening day.

"Deathstrike..."

He cut off as the assassin snarled viciously, his engines roaring in accordance with the thinly veiled warning. He began to circle the paved clearing they were in. The Seeker's wings fell and rose as they picked up numerous signals.

"Deathstrike, what is it?" He approached, subspacing his scanner and opening his built-in ones. There was something out there.

_"Coming."_ The matte black mech hissed. His optics were narrow and blazing, scanning the area.

As if solidifying his statement, the sound of roaring engines filled the area. Vehicles tore around the corner—a small blue motorcycle, a yellow and black muscle car, a large red and blue semi-truck and…a bulky green SUV.

Breakdown's engine growled. There was no doubt he recognized his foe. The rage rose in him, threatening to overwhelm, until he faced Deathstrike.

The Decepticon was trembling, servos clenched into fists. The ferocious scowl on his faceplate exposed razor sharp and extended fangs. The insanity that burned in his optics was enough to snap his companion out of his hateful musings.

"Deathstrike, perhaps you should find cover. They—"

"I _will _have the chance to face and meet my enemies, Breakdown, and _nothing_ you say will stop me from doing so." The assassin's refined armor shifted over his lean frame, flaring slightly, as his wings rose and turned to take in their new arrivals. Breakdown winced ever so slightly as the tremors shaking the other's chassis increased in brutality with the taunt of a new meal hanging within reach.

Breakdown vented, half in worry and half in irritation. He was going to have a _long_ discussion with Starscream later.

"Here." He reached into his subspace and took out a sealed cube of liquefied Energon. Deathstrike froze and snarled viciously, his enhanced olfactory sensors picking up the scent. Breakdown took a step back, shaking his helm. "Easy, Deathstrike. You can have this, but we both know it will only sate you for only a quarter joor. But you have to promise to keep a hold on yourself until I can obtain the lifeblood you need. Understand?"

The assassin bared his lengthening dentia, glaring venomously. Hesitantly, with the faint stain of rising insanity clouding him, the Decepticon nodded.

* * *

"Remember, should you see or hear anything even _remotely_ similar to a Decepticon, you either contact Optimus, Bumblebee, Arcee, or myself. Understood?" Ratchet stared down expectantly at the three kids.

"We know, Ratchet. Anything suspicious, we call you." Jack gave the red and white mech a thumbs up.

"Activating ground bridge." The portal roared to life.

"Should anything happen," Optimus rumbled, stepping forward and looking down on the human children, his aura of authority and strength radiating around him, "We will be outside. Do not hesitate to contact us."

"Will do, OP." Miko grinned, hopping onto the motor-controlled cart Fowler had provided. "Let's go."

* * *

The faint, unmistakable whir of a ground bridge filled the air.

The two Decepticons froze, their attentions torn away from their search. The sunlight glinted off of pitch black and navy armor, outlining the massive frames with light that was considered heavenly...but not with the two it was currently highlighting. It made them all the more hellish.

The taller one snarled, powerful wings flared. The dark red and black gaze blazed with pure insanity.

His companion smirked. Yellow, fiery optics burned with unrestrained amusement.

"Deathstrike..."

A low, sadistic laugh came from the matte black Seeker. "I know." He faced the other, optics blazing intensely.

"They are here."

* * *

"Miko, will you stop fooling around? We need to get the Harvester and get out of here before we're caught!" Jack hissed.

"What, a girl can't look?" the other teen shot back, snapping pictures with her flip phone.

"We both know that you're only 'looking' because you forgot to do -no, _didn't_ do- your history paper, and the only reason you're doing so now is because Bulkhead threatened to not go dune bashing with you," the taller teen retorted as his dark eyes darted throughout the darkened museum. "Any luck, Raf?"

"The Greek statue should be here." The small bespectacled human followed the human-sized scanner that the Autobot medic had given him. Looking up, his large, childlike eyes gleamed in the moonlight that illuminated them. "It's just around this..."

"Raf?" The tall, dark-haired teen stopped his bickering with Miko, turning to face the twelve-year-old. "What's wrong?"

"Guys..." He pointed to something through the clear glass window. Both teen rushed over to see it.

Standing alarmingly close to the museum were two large mechs that easily towered over the building they were currently in. One was taller than the other, with matte black armor and large, powerful wings that were batting the air in an uneven rhythm. In the dim light, his dark red and black optics blazed with a hellish light. His companion was bulkier, with heavy looking navy blue armor and an orange faceplate. Yellow, pupil less optics burned, a golden pool of sadistic want and revenge. Something about his demeanor stated that the mech was a powerful brute who would not hesitate to destroy a nuisance. The two were speaking to one another; the black mech's scowl exposed huge razor-pointed fangs. They did not seem to notice them.

"Decepticons," Jack hissed. Turning abruptly, he grabbed the arms of his younger teammates and pulled them into the shadows, motioning for them to crouch down. Eyes quickly taking in every object, the massive statue was easily recognizable in the room full of smaller artifacts.

"We need to move. _Now. _Raf, keep watch and tell us if they even glance over here. Miko, you're going to help me get this ridiculously large orb onto the cart? Understood?"

"Yes, sir!" Miko grinned mischievously, bringing her arm up in a lazy salute as she followed the taller teen.

They did not notice the deep red glare fixed on them.

* * *

He paced the area, optics roaming and taking in every minuscule detail. The aching fire was tearing at his throat, threatening to overwhelm. Yet all the while, the voice in his helm grew bolder, taunting every thought and move he made.

_Do not lose control. You cannot afford such mistakes at the moment, not with what is so heavily on the line._

_Oh, but just one little mistake will not hurt, do you not think? We have been craving this for so long..._

_There is no point in attacking the enemy in such a way. Secrets are meant to be hidden._

_From your partner as well?_

A rumbling snarl erupted from his chassis as his wings flared violently. The tawny gaze of his partner flickered over to him, and he shifted warily.

_No. **No. **Do **not **lose control. Keep your hold. Too much is at stake._

_Ah, not too much...too **little.** One little taste will not hurt...just a little, not a lot..._

_No._

_Yes._

**_No._**

**_YES._**

The tremors started once more, brutal enough to make his comrade look over at him. No...concern was not desired... _**enough...**_

"Deathstrike?"

The assassin growled, moving away as he shook his helm repeatedly, struggling to keep his inner voice in check.

The internal _**rage **_that boiled deep within. Oh so tempting, just enough...not enough...too little...

"Deathstrike, listen to me." There was no doubt that Breakdown knew what was happening. Yet he had no idea how _enticing _he smelled at the moment...

_**No.**_ _Do **not** develop a taste. It will do no good thing._

_But when have we ever been **good**?_

Wait. What was that? Oh, that smell...oh so delicious...warm flowing Energon...

"Deathstrike..."

No, there was something else. Something...not Cybertronian. His olfactories flared, glossa flicking out to sample the air. Yes, _there..._

"Breakdown." His voice cut off his partner's voiced worries, and the navy blue mech turned to face him fully.

"There is something..." Vents rasping and whirring audibly, the Seeker made his way closer to the building they towered over. Tasting the air again, the mech's engines rumbled as they neared the human facility.

"Sensors aren't picking up anything, Deathstrike." Breakdown subspaced the scanner currently in his servo. "What are you picking up?"

The assassin snarled again, armor shifting. "Not Cybertronian. Organic..." His optics scanned the area once more, checking in every frequency.

Breakdown knew his partner was becoming worse for the wear, but he knew from experience that when Deathstrike had a hunch it was easier to just nod and follow along.

Deathstrike hissed in pain as his leg gave out again; Breakdown was there in an instant to steady him.

"Deathstrike..."

The snarl tore from the mech's trembling chassis as his intense stare fixed on the building, onto an enormous see-through glass window.

"There. The organics are in there."

* * *

**There you go! Thanks to NordicAutobotGirl for the whole inner rage idea! :)**

**You like? R&amp;R, pleaze! Concerns/comments/questions always welcome!**

**Bye!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Here is Chapter 10! Sorry for the wait! **

**Happy (Belated) Thanksgiving, to all of my American readers!**

* * *

"Come on, Miko! Put your back into it and quit whining!"

"Easy for you to say, Jack. You're stronger than I am." The Japanese girl paused, a devious smirk appearing on her face. "No, wait, let me correct that. _I _am stronger than _you. _You just don't want to do the work!"

"You know what? Forget I said anything. Raf, see anything?"

"No! I think we're in the clear!" The small boy leaped up and over the railing to join the others in the motorized cart.

"Good." Jack stepped back as the Harvester landed with a thud on the motorized cart. Touching his hand to his ear, he the waiting medic. "Ratchet, we're done here."

_"Notify the others. Stay put and stay out of sight."_

"Will do. Arcee, did you copy that?"

_"Yeah. Bulk and Bee are with me. Optimus is a few klicks out. Wait for us out by the loading bay and be careful."_

"Why does everyone keep saying that? We'll be fine!" Miko looked up, her pigtails bouncing.

"Well, we're stuck with you, aren't we?" the oldest retorted, narrowing his eyes before sighing. "Sorry. Look, let's just -"

Before he could continue, a tremendous crash erupted from outside, the very noise shaking the very foundations of the earth. They all stumbled, using the rail of the cart for support. Debris rained down heavily, and Jack immediately grabbed the younger ones and covered them, biting back a cry of pain as a rather large piece of cement rammed into and nearly crushed his right shoulder; the pain was immense and he had to _f__orce _himself not to give away their location. When all was settled, they emerged, coughing in an attempt to relieve their lungs of the dust and dirt that clogged them.

"What in the world was that?" Miko demanded, shaking her multicolored hair.

"Not sure, but it may have something to do with the Decepticons we saw outside," Jack responded, looking down at the two huddled beneath him. "Are you two alright?"

"Oh, you're actually concerned? I'm touched, Jack." Miko grinned, clasping her hands together.

"We're fine, Jack." Raf gave the girl a disbelieving look. "We should really get out of here before they realize we're here."

But before the tall teen could respond, a deep and rumbling voice sounded behind them.

"Oh, I believe it's already too late for that."

They whipped around to see the two massive Decepticons they had seen earlier. The blue one was smirking, one servo transformed into a large and menacing hammer and his golden optics burning bright. The sleek black mech lingered in the shadows behind his companion, his crimson optics blazing and his wings twitching and fanning the air.

"Scrap," Jack hissed. "Miko, Raf, run!"

Miko immediately grabbed Raf and sprinted down the hall. The large blue mech chuckled darkly and transformed, speeding after them.

That left Jack with the quiet black Decepticon.

... ... ... ... ...

All was tense and quiet.

Arcee was becoming restless, itching to transform and stretch her cramping joints.

_/Patch into your comm. with Jack. I think there's something wrong./ _Bulkhead suddenly spoke, his rumbling voice echoing.

_/What makes you say that?/ _She tore herself from her wandering thoughts, immediately at attention.

_/Listen./ _He patched her in, and they did as he instructed.

Nothing.

_/Bulk, I don't see the point.../_

_/There!/_

She paused, tuning her audios to the highest frequency.

There. That noise.

It was a growl.

A low, rumbling growl.

A scream.

Silence.

_/We need to get in there! Now!/_

... ... ... ... ...

When they entered the parking lot, the large hole in the side of the museum was the first thing they noticed.

"Raf? Jack? Miko!"

Try as they might, there was no response.

The kids were nowhere in sight.

"Arcee." Bulkhead caught her attention and she turned. The massive green mech was leaning down, sifting through the debris that cluttered the floor and picking up a piece that was small in comparison to his servos but large to a human. She approached slowly, dreading what he was about to show her, as he remained eerily silent.

It was a bloodstained piece of cement.

... ... ... ...

"Deathstrike, what do you mean, 'the organics are in there'? Do you not think our scanners would have picked them up?"

The assassin vented hoarsely, shifting his weight and depositing it on the side that was not dependent on his sentient crutch. "Our sensors are tuned to...Cybertronian life signals and energies. Organics..." He shook his helm, flaring his wings as his engine growled with the heat clawing up his throat. "...organics are not." He cringed faintly as pain shot down his injured leg, and it buckled without warning, nearly collapsing in on itself. His weight pressed into the bulkier mech as he snarled lowly, optics flashing as a harsh tremor racked his lean and powerful frame.

"Easy, Deathstrike." Breakdown shifted to better accommodate the taller yet leaner mech. "I know you have already told me before, but are you certain that you wish to fight?"

The jet black mech rumbled a warning, his wings twitching before he vented once more. "Yes, Breakdown, I am sure." His armor flared, shifting and rippling over his frame like sleek black water before settling against his chassis. "Your concern sickens me."

"You like it, don't you?" the navy blue mech teased, raising his free servo as if in surrender when the medic fixed his burning glare on him.

Deathstrike turned away suddenly, olfactories flaring as his wings hiked up high on his back. A low growl reverberated throughout his chassis, and his crimson stare burned with enough insanity and hunger to unnerve his partner.

"Deathstrike."

"They are coming." The assassin's servos clamped down onto Breakdown's. The navy mech hissed slightly as the other's long and razor-sharp claws sliced effortlessly through his refined armor, yet he did not complain, knowing it would enrage the already incensed assassin even more.

"We have a plan for getting the Harvester before them, do we not?" Breakdown questioned, feeling the other's armor rise as his vents worked overtime in a futile attempt to cool his overheating chassis.

Deathstrike shuddered, snarling viciously before regaining his bearings. "We go around back and..." His wings flared with a jerk, batting his companion's servo as his engine roared. "...find a way to retrieve the relic. They will be watching."

Breakdown nodded. "Anything else?"

The matte black mech hissed, jerking suddenly as a violent shiver ran through his frame. He reared back as much as his partner's iron grip allowed him, elongated claws tearing deeper slashes into the navy blue armor covering Breakdown's servo.

"Calm down. You will not lose control, understand?" He decided to take matters into his own servos. Deathstrike could not reveal his secret to the enemy, not while he was like this, weakened and ravenous. It would do no good. Switching to an encrypted and private communications line, he continued. _Do you need to take from me?_

The Seeker shuttered his optics. _I have not refueled in quartexes, Breakdown. If I do take from you, I fear I will not be able to stop myself from completely draining you._

_You know how to control yourself. Stop doubting._

Armor moved silently again. _How can you advise me not to lose control? Do you remember what happened in Polyhex?_

_That was hundreds of vorns ago, and many things have changed since then._

_I will not take from you and that is final._

_Fine, then, you insufferable glitch._

_Calling me names will get you nowhere, my dear Breakdown._

_Whatever. _

Deathstrike scowled and flicked his wings up and down before settling them in their normal neutral position. "Come. We must be going. We have work to do."

... ... ... ... ...

When they pulled up to the museum parking lot closest to where Deathstrike was certain the organics were, all was dark and silent. Nothing seemed to me awake, alive, or moving in the vicinity of the building, but Breakdown was following Deathstrike's enhanced senses that clearly stated something alive and possibly well was in there.

"Take the door down," the medic murmured, shuttering his optics as he leaned heavily, almost weakly, against his partner.

"Sure." Shifting his weight momentarily to allow the other to become more comfortable, he activated his defense relays. The plating on his shoulder panel shifted aside and a missile launcher emerged from its depths. Targeting protocols popped up on his HUD display, his tracker locking on the best place the missile would need to land in order to cause the least but most effective damage.

It fired, and the resulting crash and explosion was enough to even jar the weakened assassin from his straying thoughts. Breakdown murmured a hurried apology while his sensor and scanner range broadened. Deathstrike, still leaning against him, snarled quietly, attempting to stand on his own.

"Stop that." Breakdown held the other only slightly tighter, as to not aggravate the lightly slumbering beast. The assassin shook his helm, narrowing his optics as if in a challenge.

"There." His voice was deeper and had a rasp hidden somewhere in it, and his vents rattled throughout his frame. He was becoming worse. "In the...main entrance hall."

Breakdown nodded, finally allowing his companion to use him as a means of steadying himself. With a lurching gait and a weakened leg Deathstrike prowled the area, vents whirring and wings turning to pick up every bit of data in the room. Breakdown stood off to the sidelines, recognizing the mech's already dark mood would not be improved by his intervention.

"Come here," Deathstrike spoke suddenly, his deep and rasping voice echoing throughout the decimated room. Breakdown did as told, narrowing his optics as he weaved his way through the debris. The assassin stood waveringly near a large piece of cement that was leaning against a metal cart of some sort.

"They are under that slab," Deathstrike murmured in a sort of breathless tone, shuttering his optics and cringing ever so slightly as the hunger roared its fury and tore at his throat. "I cannot move it."

Breakdown said nothing, heaving the slab away. Beneath it was three organics cowered together, seemingly unconscious...or even dead. One was significantly taller than the others, and his long and lean body covered them. A large bloodstain was spreading rapidly from beneath his right arm, which looked twisted in a very painful way. The other two, a skinny black-and-pink haired girl and a small boy with spiky hair and large glasses that seemed to be too big for him, were covered in as much dust as the larger one.

"Well, what do we have here?" Deathstrike rasped, tilting his helm.

"That one is Bulkhead's pet." Breakdown grinned viciously as he motioned to the girl, the rage in his spark stirring.

"Do not get carried away," Deathstrike hissed. "Are you thinking what I currently am?"

"Oh, yes."

The assassin rumbled deeply. "We should get started, then."

... ... ... ... ...

"Where are they?"

_/Arcee, my computers cannot pick up their signals. Either they're cloaked or -/_

"Don't you dare finish that!" The blue femme paced the area, deep in furious musings. If any 'Con had even put a digit on them...

"Arcee, we're just as worried," Bulkhead said suddenly. Bumblebee whirred his acquiescence next to him, his doorwings twitching. "Don't worry; whoever did this, they'll pay. I mean, look at the bright side. We got the Harvester."

"We lost our teammates, Bulkhead! Our charges! Is that all you care about, that we got the Harvester?"

The Wrecker narrowed his optics. "I didn't say that, and you'd better watch yourself, 'Cee. Miko means the world to me!"

She scoffed. "Then why aren't you looking for her?"

Bulkhead rumbled threateningly and made to approach her before a voice cut in.

_/Both of you had better stop acting like glitched sparklings before I come up there, dismantle you, and rebuild you as toasters!/ _Ratchet snarled at them through the communications link. /_"Get your helms in the game and **focus! **Have you found any clues yet?/_

"No!" Arcee vented deeply, crossing her servos. "Nothing except this bloodstained rock!"

_/Bloodstained... **Arcee!/**_

She jumped at the harsh and severe tone, one that was more brutal than normal, of the medic. "What?"

_/I can use that DNA to trace the kids! Why did you not say something earlier?/_

"Thought it was irrelevant." She scowled deeply.

_/The thought of turning you two into toasters is **so **tempting right now./_

"Shut up." She turned away, putting a hand on her hip as she gestured furiously with the other. "Get a bridge here and we'll give you the Harvester. Optimus, do you know what's going on?"

_/Indeed, Arcee./ _Even with the possible danger the children were in, Arcee found that she still found the smallest bit of comfort in the rumbling and smooth bass tones of her leader. /_Have you found any evidence that links the Decepticons to the disappearance of our charges?/_

"Optimus, there are residual traces of Cybertronian energy signals here, and they don't match Autobots." Bulkhead patched in, the faintest traces of worry and suspicion staining his voice.

There was a rumble in response for a moment, and then the Prime responded. /_Very well. Secure the Harvester and await further instructions./_

"Sure thing, Boss." Bulkhead tuned into Ratchet. "We're ready for that bridge, Ratch."

_/It should be arriving shortly. Approximately 132.7 seconds./_

The portal soon appeared, and just as they were about to go through, the Harvester secured safely in Bumblebee's subspace, a deep voice sounded behind them.

"I am afraid we cannot let you take that."

The Autobots turned and were graced with the sight of two enormous mechs. One was rather significantly taller than the other, and large and powerful wings rose from his back. Pitch black and sleek armor covered his lean frame, flared slightly from his chassis; it was unclear if it was in anger or in something else. His servos were crossed, and his long and thin digits were tipped by huge and menacing claws. The scowl on his faceplate exposed his long and razor-sharp fangs. His companion was slightly shorter, with heavier and slightly bulkier armor of the warrior class; it was colored a deep navy blue. His servos were crossed as well, over a massive chest, and the smirk on his orange faceplate complimented the way his yellow optics glared.

Both mechs had the Decepticon insignia centered on their chassis.

Arcee glanced between the two, checking for weaknesses of any sort. The tall mech radiated a storm of black fury and hunger, but she noticed he was favoring his left side and had most of his weight on one leg.

"Who are you?" she demanded, her servo transforming into her Energon blaster and whirring menacingly.

The mech only glared at her and grinned viciously, a sight that was rather horrifying.

"Breakdown." Bulkhead was glaring at the blue mech, his flared armor betraying his rage and hate.

"Missed me, Bulk?" the blue 'Con rumbled, his optics flashing.

"Hardly. Come back for a rematch?" Bulkhead got into a defensive position.

"You know I did." Breakdown made to lunge at the other, but the black mech snarled suddenly and, surprisingly, the massive blue Decepticon froze and calmed down. He settled for crossing his servos once more and continued, "You have something we want."

"If you're looking for the Harvester, you're out of luck," Arcee stated firmly. "It's not here."

"We both know that is a lie." The Seeker spoke in a voice deeper than Optimus', yet it was hoarse and sounded strained as if he were attempting to stop himself from doing something regrettable.

"So why don't you be nice little Autobots and give us the Harvester?" Breakdown growled, narrowing his optics.

"Not a chance." Arcee turned to Bumblebee, who whirred in concern and confusion, his large optics spinning. "Bee, get out of here!"

The Decepticon Seeker snarled, his optics blazing hellishly. In a flash, he moved from his current position to where the scout was. Lashing out, his enormous claws latched onto the young mech's doorwing, twisting it with a sickening screech of warping metal and shredding seams and circuity. Bumblebee cried out, twisting futilely against the Decepticon's ruthless grasp. Energon began to flow freely from the wound, and Arcee could have sworn she saw the black mech run his glossa over his fangs as the hunger in his glare flared brightly.

Breakdown narrowed his yellow optics; he must have noticed as well. _"Deathstrike!" _A hidden warning was hidden deep in the massive Decepticon's voice.

The Seeker seemed to snap out of a trance, and he snarled again, glaring down at the cowering Autobot who stared up at him with wide and worry-filled sky blue optics. With a jerk, the assassin pulled the little mech up and shoved him at Arcee, hard enough to make her falter under the unexpected weight as Bumblebee crashed into her.

There was a harsh clang as Breakdown collided with Bulkhead, cracking the cement beneath them as well as any museum artifacts that happened to be in a display defenseless from two forty-ton aliens.

"Why don't you just give up and give us the Harvester, Bulkhead?" Breakdown growled, parrying the punched thrown his way.

"Not a chance, Breakdown." Bulkhead suddenly got the upper servo and had the Decepticon in a headlock.

"That all you got?" Breakdown twisted and elbowed the other in the faceplate, the resounding crack echoing throughout the room.

"Oh, I've got _plenty_ more!" The Autobot grabbed Breakdown by the servos and hauled him over his helm, swinging him a few times before throwing him out of the building and into the parking lot. He stalked out of the decimated building, intent on incapacitating his enemy.

Meanwhile, Arcee and Bumblebee had regained their bearings in order to fight the Seeker. He moved incredibly fast, dodging each of their blows and striking back with greater force each time.

"You still haven't answered my question. Who are you?" Arcee growled, slicing at him with her blades.

The Decepticon swerved in one graceful movement, ending up behind her as he lashed out with his claws to leave five deep gashes in her winglet. The femme hissed, jerking out of his grip in order to let Bumblebee get in on the quarrel, aware of the fact that hot Energon was pouring from her wounds and that her strained systems were working overtime to accommodate to her injuries.

Bumblebee whirred determinedly and threw a punch, but the Seeker sensed the oncoming attack and vanished from view, ending up on the other side of the room.

The black and yellow Autobot tilted his helm, beeping in confusion as they approached their enemy, weapons unsheathed and ready for action.

Deathstrike bared his fangs, his engine rumbling, and armor shifting as he saw the two coming at him. He moved towards the femme first, striking out and digging his claws into her side. Cringing, she kicked out at him, attempting to dislodge his painful grip; she was surprised at the immense strength of his supposedly thin armor, as her attack did nothing to deter his determined grasp.

Bumblebee saw that the Decepticon was distracted and leaped onto his back, uncaring of his wings. Snarling in irritation, the Seeker reared back, growling viciously as he attempted to dislodge the younger and smaller mech's hold on him. Bumblebee kept up his act, leaning down, up, or away in order to dodge the razor-like talons slicing at him. Arcee saw the small window of opportunity and kicked at the Decepticon's weakened leg, satisfied with the crunch that resulted from the assault. Deathstrike roared, though not in pain, unbeknownst to her, and suddenly his servo shot out and his claws were wrapped around Arcee's throat. His crimson optics burned with malicious hunger and desire, and his fangs glinted in the dim moonlight. She struggled in his iron grasp, her processor beginning to slow as his grip halted Energon flow. All the while, the Decepticon seemed terrifyingly amused as his engine rumbled threateningly; he ignored Bumblebee's now desperate attempts to make him stop while Arcee gasped and struggled futilely.

Suddenly the sound of a powerful engine reached them, and a horn honked loudly. Optics turning to see the visitor, a large red and blue semi-truck sped towards them at a rather alarming rate, seemingly having no intention of stopping. The plating covering it shifted and creased, and it transformed into the massive frame of Optimus Prime.

"Release them!" the leader of the Autobots bellowed, transforming his servos into their double-barrel Energon blasters.

Both of the Decepticons let out terrifying laughs, yet they stopped their attempts to fight them.

"Optimus Prime." The Seeker spoke, snarling softly, as his bloody crimson gaze locked onto the intense cobalt of the other. "It has been a while. Though I cannot say I am pleased to see you."

"Likewise, Deathstrike." Optimus charged his blaster. "I will not repeat myself."

"But you see, _we _have the upper hand." Suddenly the black Decepticon dropped the now unconscious Arcee and kicked her towards her leader, the screech of her metal plating ringing harshly in their audios and in the room. Bumblebee immediately ran to her side, attempting to wake her up.

"Explain." Optimus shifted his stance and weight so that now he was in front of his injured team. His power and authority, as well as his strong presence, radiated from his field at an almost alarming and overwhelming level.

"Why don't we show you?" Breakdown appeared suddenly, dragging the unconscious frame of Bulkhead behind him and throwing him at the Prime's pedes with a ground-shaking thud.

Optimus narrowed his optics, keeping his weapon charged and aimed with a steady hold.

Deathstrike and Breakdown glanced at each other, nodding once with flashing optics. The Seeker's chassis armor split and unfolded into a subspace, and he reached in and took out something. With a horrifying grin, he unfolded his clawed servo.

Jack, Miko, and Raf lay limp in the Decepticon's grasp. Miko and Raf seemed unharmed, yet there was a large bloodstain on Jack's right arm, one that was spreading steadily.

Optimus felt rage and shock stir deep within his spark, and the Matrix's humming tones did nothing to sooth or smother it.

Deathstrike snarled, his fangs lengthening as he took in the scent of Optimus' field.

"Like I said, we have the upper hand, and you will do whatever we say if you want your precious humans to live."

* * *

**I sincerely apologize for the long wait! It took me forever to write this, and I am sorry for that. **

**Well, I hope you enjoyed this! Almost four thousand words! :D**

**Read and Review, pleaze! :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**Yes, yes. I know I left you guys hanging in the last chapter...but cliffhangers are so _tempting... _despite how much frustration they cause. Ah, well. Here is Chapter Eleven!**

**Additional Notes:**

**a.) I am always open to suggestions and requests! I recently posted a story called **_**Demon Spawn **_**(Transformers: Prime) for _jack prime,_ in which Jack is a half demon and struggles to hide his secret! Feel free to check it out! :)**

**b.) There is a poll on my profile asking if I should make a horror story centered around Deathstrike and the Autobots or Deathstrike and the Decepticons, exceptions meaning any suggestions that you guys would have should they arise. Please vote! (Note: This does not include BLU or Captured.)**

* * *

Optimus glared, his mood approaching livid despite the fact that he was overwhelmed with disbelief.

Deathstrike grinned, a vicious action, with his fangs extended and his optics blazing. "Oh, come now, Prime. You do not want your little pets coming into the way of such sadistic harm, do you not?" His accent became more pronounced as his clawed servo twitched, as if anxious to crush the insignificant and fleshy pests he was holding.

The massive red and blue mech shifted his refined armor, his weapon whirring as if in angered distress. "What do you want, Deathstrike?"

"I believe you know." The matte black Decepticon narrowed his optics, his grin vanishing and replaced with a venomous scowl.

"What would be the point of giving you the Harvester if you were merely going to use it on me?" the leader of the Autobots demanded, narrowing his optics.

The Decepticon snarled viciously, his optics flashing. "I was not going to." He moved suddenly, unnervingly close to his enemy as he circled him like a dangerous predator stalking its prey; the close range the two were in was enough to allow Optimus to feel the chilling aura of black rage and hunger that radiated from the mech.

Deathstrike's engine rumbled deeply and he flared his wings as he spoke in a low murmur, his optics blazing bright. "But now you have gone and given me an idea." The words were hissing and venomous, filled with malicious intent and desire.

The Prime narrowed his intense and blazing cobalt gaze, deep in thought over what he should do. Deep down, he knew that the two, mainly Deathstrike, were extremely unpredictable and could change their supposedly sound tactics at the moment where it was least expected. Nevertheless, he continued to speak in a calm and rumbling voice. "You still have not answered my question. Why would I benefit from such an exchange?"

The assassin narrowed his hellish optics as his sleek armor flared and resettled over his powerful body in a sudden motion. "Oh, come now, Prime. Do you really not care for your team that much?"

Behind the massive mech, Bumblebee whirred and clicked, fixing his large baby blue gaze on his leader. _Optimus, that isn't true._

Such innocence was dwindling in the everlasting war between the factions; the Prime considered his youngest almost lucky to possess such a trait. The large mech flared his electromagnetic field ever so slightly, comforting the small mech with a warm thrum of reassurance._  
_

The Prime looked down at the small mech. _Do you trust me, Bumblebee?  
_

The scout flared his wings, shifting with the dead weight of the unconscious Arcee in his servos. _Of course I do._

_Then be silent and let me figure this out myself. _Optimus turned his attention back on Deathstrike and Breakdown. The assassin was staring at him with a ravenous and spark-twisting glare, while his companion only seemed annoyed with the way the current events were playing out.

"You will promise me this: once I give you the Harvester, you will leave and will never set pede near my team's charges again." Optimus Prime's voice was a threatening rumble, similar to the warning the roar of thunder gave before a storm.

_"Promise?"_ Breakdown spoke, smirking maliciously. He shifted, his armor resettling over his frame as joints and seams realigned themselves with an audible crack and whir. "Who do you think we are?"

The Autobot merely narrowed his optics and remained silent.

"That is enough, Breakdown," Deathstrike hissed. "We shall grant the Autobot his wish."

"Really?" The blue mech fixed his shocked yellow gaze on his partner. "Deathstrike, you are certain?"

The matte black assassin snarled, his fangs seeming to lengthen as his burning crimson stare focused on the other. "Do I look like I am not?" One of his wings twitched as his sleek armor shifted.

Breakdown was silent for a brief moment before something flashed in his unnerving optics. "No." His tawny stare turned back on the Autobot leader as his engine rumbled. "The Harvester."

There was a moment of tense silence, and Deathstrike narrowed his optics to slits. The warning flare of his armor did not settle as Optimus nodded once at Bumblebee. The scout chirred as he set down the unconscious Arcee and unlatched his subspace, taking out the weapon and standing to hand it to his leader, his doorwings turned to take in any and all data coming from the two enigmatic Decepticons.

The Prime hesitated, long enough to make the assassin snarl in vicious irritation, as he ran the calculations of the possible outcomes. The Autobot's intense gaze only became stronger as he slowly approached Deathstrike. Noting the way the armor of his left leg was cracked and how the actual appendage was somewhat twisted, Optimus placed the weapon capable of mass destruction in the outstretched clawed servos.

It was only when Deathstrike's optics flared bright and he grinned eerily did the Prime realize his mistake in judgment.

With a hiss, Deathstrike lashed out, his talons connecting with the larger mech's chassis and ripping out a substantial amount of plating. Grunting in pain, Optimus dodged another strike and retaliated with his own punches, ones that the assassin easily dodged despite their accuracy and brutal strength.

"This is pathetic, Prime," the matte black assassin snarled, his fangs extending even more as he bared them in a feral snarl. "You must certainly have more strength within you."

The Prime noticed, with a slight shudder as his systems scrambled to assess and repair the Energon-gushing wound, the insane hunger and wildness that blazed within the hellish depths of the Decepticon, and now knew to tread lightly.

Meanwhile, Bumblebee was preoccupied with Breakdown. Using his smaller size and his speed to his advantage, the yellow and black scout dodged most of the larger mech's attacks, which only enraged the Decepticon and made him put more furious strength into his assault.

"What's the matter, bug?" Breakdown growled. "Can't take a hit?"

Bumblebee whirred in fury, his optics spinning as he ducked between the navy blue mech's legs and ended up behind him. Transforming his servos, he charge his stingers and shot the Decepticon repeatedly in the back. Breakdown roared in pure and unadulterated fury as he turned and stormed at the youngling, intent on incapacitating him. Optics narrowing, Bumblebee leaped into the air and landed on Breakdown's back, punching him repeatedly in the side of the helm to ensure that he remained as unfocused as possible to make the task of taking him down easier.

Deathstrike snarled as he ducked beneath the punch Optimus threw, optics flashing wildly. Flaring his wings he moved back a few steps, claws extending further as the scowl on his faceplate morphed into a disturbing grin.

"Prime," the assassin hissed, his voice holding the slightest bit of enraged insanity. His wings were raised high and spread wide, twitching as if they could not decide which direction they wanted to move in.

Sensing the brief moment of opportunity, Optimus cocked his weapon and aimed. Deathstrike growled, readying himself for the incoming attack. He narrowed his optics as the Prime raised his gun and fired, nowhere near the Decepticon assassin.

Deathstrike tilted his helm, optics boiling with varying emotions, anger and confusion being the most dominant. "Your aim is poor, Prime."

"One only believes something is poor if they do not understand it," the Autobot Commander retorted, moving back a few pedesteps.

Breakdown glanced away from his current situation, noticing the cracks webbing on the wall behind his partner and ignoring Bumblebee as he scampered back over to the welcoming strength of his leader. "Deathstrike, move!"

The assassin hissed, furious optics locking onto the massive red and blue mech before him. Moving away in a flash, the last thing the Prime saw was the collapsing frame of Deathstrike.

... ... ... ...

Breakdown stared in shock as the assassin was pinned down beneath the descending cement and metal, knowing that he was unable to do a thing or risk getting crushed as well, and that would not help either of them in any way. His attention was torn from his now unconscious partner as a flash of red, blue, and yellow moved in his peripheral vision.

Optimus Prime and his youngest stood there, watching him warily. The navy blue 'Con felt rage stir in his spark, and it was not from his hate of Bulkhead. With a growl, his servo transformed into his signature hammer and he advanced on the two, yellow optics glaring dangerously bright.

"Bumblebee," Optimus rumbled, placing the smaller mech behind him. "Contact Ratchet to assist you in taking the others and bridging out of here. No matter what happens, do _not _come to my aid."

The scout whirred, seeming to hesitate before pressing a digit to his comm-link and turning away, dragging his teammates through the open portal with a lowly cursing Ratchet.

Breakdown could care less about the medic and the youngling. Unlike what the other Decepticons believed, he was not an emotionless pile of scrap metal, and he actually _cared _for his partner.

And he was going to terminate the Prime for injuring him.

"Breakdown, I hold no ill intentions to you or your partner," Optimus rumbled gravely.

The navy blue mech narrowed his optics. "Then why did you just crush him beneath six tons of cement and steel?"

"You understand as well as I the matter of self-defense." Optimus transformed his servo back into default, holding his palms out in a non-threatening position.

Breakdown glared at the larger mech, eerily silent. His hammer rose slowly, and the Prime felt himself tense. He could not help but widen his optics in surprise as the Decepticon vented heavily and transformed his hammer back into his servo. His golden glare was hazed and unfocused.

"Go." He spoke one word, rumbling and hoarse. When Optimus did not move, his tawny glare sharpened and he bared his dentia in a scowl that was nearly as threatening as his partner's. "Do not make me regret this, Prime, and do not try me. I can come over there and tear out your spark before your very optics, so take this chance while it is still available and before I change my mind. _Leave."_

Optimus merely shook his helm and left, believing it best to not anger the Decepticon even more than he already was.

... ... ... ...

Watching the Prime exit through his ground bridge, Breakdown waited until the portal had closed before turning to help his partner, forcing himself not to run and throw every piece of cement or metal away in his soon to be frenzied search..

"Deathstrike?" He knew that if the assassin was seriously injured, he would not respond at all, or if he managed to collect the slightest bit of strength to use his telepathy.

A soft snarl, frighteningly weak and hoarse, sounded close to him. Breakdown carefully moved aside the slab of cement near him. Deathstrike lay there, optics flickering and ventilation mechanisms rattling, a sound that troubled the massive Decepticon. It sounded as if there was something other than dust clogged in his vents.

"Deathstrike..." The navy blue Decepticon hesitated as the other vented hoarsely, his frame rattling.

_Help me up. _The assassin's mental voice sounded within his helm, unnervingly quiet and weak. Breakdown carefully placed his servos beneath the other, pressing his mouthplates together as he felt the hot Energon coming from a wound on the Seeker's backstrut. He slowly straightened, watching Deathstrike for any signs of pain or discomfort.

He flinched as the assassin snarled in warning, his core temperature rising suddenly as his chassis trembled with violent shudders. It was then that Breakdown noticed the way the medic's left leg was twisted in a very painful way and how it sparked occasionally. He felt the slightest bit of worry and rage plague him, twisting around in his spark like an untamed storm. He would hurt the Prime later, that he would, and make him feel every bit of pain he knew his partner was feeling. It was all too painstakingly obvious that he could not move Deathstrike while his leg was injured in such a way.

Slowing his steps, he tried to ignore the warning rumble of the assassin's engines. He knew from past experience that whenever Deathstrike was ill or injured, his mood became increasingly erratic; he also knew that the assassin would lash out with a fury that only showed that the beast was barely restrained, and that sometimes (most of the time, actually) brute force and authority was needed in matters such as this. "Deathstrike, I have to reset your leg. I can't move you while it's like that."

Deathstrike drew in a ragged vent, his armor flaring ever so slightly. _I...know. Set me...down._

The Decepticon nodded, gently leaning the other against a slab of smoother concrete able to support his weight. He continued to watch the other's faceplate closely for any sign that would show him that he was using more force than necessary. When he was sure he was not harming his partner any more than he would, he set to soldering the frayed wires so Deathstrike would feel only the required amount of pain.

Above him, the assassin shuddered, shuttering his optics as his helm fell back against the cold cement. Breakdown felt his worry begin to strengthen. He had to move quickly and restore the assassin's low Energon fuel storage.

"Deathstrike, stay with me. I need you online." He spoke in a soft and gentle voice, placing a light yet massive servo against the clawed one.

Deathstrike coughed violently, his vents expelling a large amount of dust, as he grimaced and dug his extended claws into the decimated ground beneath him. _Get it over with. _His voice was weaker than before.

Breakdown vented deeply, muttering an apology as the hot air blew over the trembling frame beneath him. He could feel Deathstrike's core temperature rising steadily. It was not a good sign and only contributed to the fact that Deathstrike's health was rapidly deteriorating. The assassin was normally ice cold, as cold as a long deactivated corpse. He was never as burning hot as this.

"Brace yourself." Using both servos, Breakdown placed them against the twisted leg before him, and with a firm push and a crack of straightening hydraulic lines, muscle cables, and Energon fuel lines, he snapped the assassin's leg back into place.

Deathstrike intaked sharply, fangs bared in a grimace. His optics flickered, becoming darker with each flash. The heat building in his core roared to voice its fury, and his black plating only circulated the aching fire even more.

"No, Deathstrike." Breakdown gently shook the other awake, growing more concerned as he felt the burning heat radiating off of the other. "I have one more wound I need to fix, and you still need refuel."

_Then do it...already. _Deathstrike snarled at him, only the slightest bit of his usual annoyance resurfacing; the only reason his full anger was not currently displayed was a result of his weakening health. _I cannot stay online much longer. My systems are...shutting down rapidly._

After Breakdown had welded the wound on the assassin's backstrut, as well as any other bleeding wounds, he pulled back, watching Deathstrike intently.

_What? _His optics narrowed as he shifted to a more comfortable position, wings flicking weakly.

"You need refuel." Breakdown kept his voice even, though he knew the other could sense his anxiety.

_Yes. _Deathstrike stared at his companion with hazed and darkened optics as his processor analyzed the given information. Snarling suddenly -though weak, it still was as vicious as ever- he glared at Breakdown with unsettling and renewed fury. _I will not take from you._

"You have no choice." Breakdown pulled the other closer, almost in an embrace, and tilted his helm. "I know you can smell me, Deathstrike. You need refuel, and I have no more cubes stored with me. Drink."

_I... _Deathstrike's optics flickered momentarily, and he hissed softly, shaking his helm even as his olfactories flared and allowed him to smell that hot, delicious Energon flowing...oh so good. He could taste it already...feel his fangs sink into that marvelously offered neck, feel the splash of hot, delicious Energon against his fangs and the slick path of it sliding down his throat, en route to his tanks...

Shaking his helm, the assassin trembled hard enough to make his companion's worry resurface. Deathstrike looked up at the other, vents rasping as his weakened internal systems struggled to release the foreign debris before any life-threatening or serious injury could make itself known. Breakdown urged the suddenly unresponsive assassin to speak with a gentle push with his mind, watching and moving back slightly as Deathstrike's talons raked through his makeshift cement berth.

_I will not be able to stop myself._

"Yes, you will. _Drink, _Deathstrike."

Growling softly, the assassin vented out deeply. _If I take too much, warn me by any means necessary. _

Breakdown growled, and it was enough motivation for the other. The navy blue Decepticon remained motionless as he felt the razor fangs slice through his neck cabling easily, and the slight exhaustion as he was drained slightly. Deathstrike flinched against him suddenly, pulling back as he stared with dim black and crimson optics. Noticing the other's confusion, he coughed harshly once more, forcefully expelling more dust and cement, and spoke in a telepathic voice that was still too weak for Breakdown's liking.

_We are leaving._

"You took enough?" Breakdown helped the other stand.

_Yes. Leave, now. _Without another word, he turned and contacted Soundwave, leaving a slightly stunned Breakdown to stare.

* * *

**Sorry for the crap ending! Hope you liked! I'll add more in a bit.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Here is Chapter Twelve!**

**Note: I realize that the previous chapter was not my best work, and I apologize for that. Hopefully, this will be better!**

**Also, Soundwave uses recordings to speak, but I am still deciding whether or not I will make him mute. Ellipses (...) represent static and tildes (~) are when he changes voices in the recordings he uses.**

**Regarding the poll on my profile: I have changed the choices. The question is still the same (Should I make a horror story with Deathstrike and the Autobots or Deathstrike and the Decepticon?), but now the choices are Autobots, Decepticons, both, or neither. I now realize that the others kind of made no sense...my bad. :/**

**Please vote, and enjoy the story!**

* * *

All was quiet on the _Nemesis. _The silence was almost palpable, hanging over everything in a lackadaisical way as if it had nothing better to do with its dull and inanimate life. The ship rumbled contentedly as it hovered in the air, massive engines growling and reverberating through the vast open space provided around it.

Starscream stood in the docking bay, wings lowered in a neutral position and twitching every other moment as the sensor-laden panels focused on the churning soup known as the Earth sky and on any organic, flight-capable life that happened to pass by. The large panel of worn metal was the place he was normally able to be found at when he wanted to clear his processor or just vent in solitude.

"Lord Starscream." A deep voice sounded behind him, rumbling and rasping to give the sense that the owner was exhausted.

The Seeker flared his wings, releasing a deep vent. "Longscar. What is it?"

The quiet twin stood a respectful distance from the former Air Commander, wings held in a position that did not reveal his current emotions if he had any. It was something the entire crew doubted, although he occasionally displayed concern and aggression when his brother was threatened, harmed, or insulted in any way, shape, or form. The entirety of the Decepticon army knew never to mess with the elder twin unless they wanted to be less of a body part or to be subjected to the most painful torture possible. While it was known that Longscar possessed little to no emotional programming, he was one of the most skilled and feared Decepticon interrogators in Cybertronian history, and even though one might need the permission of whoever was in charge at the time, be it Megatron, Starscream, or Soundwave, there was hardly a time when either of the three officers disregarded his abilities or requests to punish the fool dimwitted enough to harm his twin.

Next to the mysterious black mech, his brother appeared, his powerful wings fanning the air in an undiscernable emotion. They seemed to exchange a silent message through their familial sparkbond before they both turned to face the higher ranking Seeker.

"Soundwave has information regarding the assassin from his partner." Longscar spoke, his deep and rumbling voice so similar to that of the thunder the earth storms presented.

"He believes that you will benefit from such information," Blackstand finished.

It was at that moment Starscream decided to turn, only to come face-to-visor with a looming slim black and purple mech, one who was too close for comfort.

"Soundwave!" The silver mech narrowed his optics, claws curling into fists even as they sharpened in his agitation, drawing thin trickles of Energon from the sensitive metal of his palms. "What did I tell you about sneaking up on me?"

Longscar and Blackstand glanced at each other, while the faceless assassin merely tilted his helm and played an audio feed.

_"Commander, this is Breakdown, but I am sure you already know that." _The leviathan of a mech's voice rumbled through the dangerous and dark mech's speakers, reverberating throughout the area. _"We have obtained the Harvester, but Deathstrike is gravely ill and injured, enough that he can't transform. He had tried to contact you earlier, but something was jamming Soundwave's encrypted frequencies and the static interference with his processor nearly made him go berserker insane...or more than he already was at the moment. If you get my point, we are requesting an immediate ground bridge."_

Starscream growled, wings flaring in his rising irritation as he realized what Breakdown was saying to him and him only. He absolutely had to get this situation contained before suspicions arose. He snarled lowly, his streamlined armor shifting over his frame. "When was this received?" he hissed to the spy.

Soundwave remained silent and motionless as the tawny rays given off by the Earth's sun glinted off of his featureless face. The smooth metal seemed to become darker in the supposedly heavenly light, and the dark assassin gave the impression that he was staring at Starscream.

Blackstand piped up, his massive wings twitching as his crimson optics flashed with a suddenly amused light. "It was one point two five joors before now, sir."

Blazing scarlet optics narrowed, moving from the twin to the master spy as the silver Seeker gave a dangerous snarl. "And why have you not activated the portal?"

A huge yet thin bladed servo rose, and Soundwave made a slicing movement across his narrow chest as a static-laced sentence hissed from his external speakers. _"You are to...report any...~thing you receive in a transmission to me immediately and wait for my approval. Is this...~clear, Soundwave?"_

Starscream rolled his optics in an exasperated fashion, forcing himself to bite back his irritated sigh. Of _course _Soundwave would put his code of conduct above the welfare of his faction. "You were waiting for my approval, were you not?" A deep vent of heated air left the heeled Seeker as the spy remained silent. "Very well. Let them aboard."

The slim purple and black mech nodded sharply, initiating the controls and programs that were connected to his processor. After a moment of silence, the bridge appeared with a content and deep whir and the silhouettes of two mechs appeared.

But there was more to their appearance than they would ever know to understand.

* * *

"They aren't answering, and this is the fourth time I have tried!" Breakdown whirled around, pure and unadulterated rage in his smoldering yellow glare, one that was increasing in feral brutality by the nanosecond. "I _know_ that they are there; we both do! Slaggit, it's _Soundwave _who is Head of Communications!"

The assassin, who was once again leaning against the slab of concrete he had been on earlier, gave a hoarse vent that ended in harsh coughing and a pained grimace. _Just calm down, Breakdown. You know as well as I that they will answer soon enough. _ He shifted, baring his fangs in a seemingly irritated snarl. _And cease your incessant pacing; you are only making my processor ache worse. _The winged mech seemed to have regained a bit of his normal overpowering and dark strength, enough that his mental voice was slightly stronger than it had been a mere half joor ago. It still was not enough to please his partner, however, and the irritation that rose deep within the assassin was proof that Breakdown never really stopped worrying about him.

Breakdown narrowed his optics, looking ready to object until Deathstrike's crimson glare ceased all attempts. With a vent, the massive navy blue mech crossed his servos and glared at the out at the demolished ruins of what been the human museum. "Fine."

His attention was drawn back to his partner as he shuddered violently, wings rising in a sudden, jerking movement as they scraped harshly against the ice-cold and unforgiving material behind him. Breakdown was there in an instant to steady the assassin as powerful and frame-wracking coughs shook the other's lean chassis. As he made to move, however, the assassin snarled, shoving him away as he continued to cough violently.

"Deathstrike?" Breakdown narrowed his optics, not moving from his position next to his partner.

The matte black Seeker shook his helm, his ventilation mechanisms expelling a large amount of heated air in an attempt to cool his overheated systems. _I...I cannot. Stay away. _His optics flashed dangerously bright as his wings twitched erratically behind him. His ventilations were becoming heavier, hoarse and ragged, enough to make the heavier mech approach and ignore the warning rumbles of his companion's engines.

The navy blue Decepticon glared, his tawny optics blazing with a sudden irritation. His partner's voice had weakened again; he felt his worry increased once more. "Deathstrike, if you need to refuel again, I can help you."

_No! _The medic's reply was shockingly overwhelming, and the sudden surge of mental power had Breakdown's helm swimming for a moment as his equilibrium sensors and processor took a moment to stabilize themselves. Once he regained his bearings he saw that Deathstrike was staring at him with wide optics, a dark and maniacal, ravenous light blazing deep within their endless depths. _I cannot take any more from you!_

Breakdown narrowed his optics, his electromagnetic field clearly displaying his displeasure. "Well, I'm just not going to sit here and watch you suffer."

Deathstrike turned his helm to glare at the massive mech, his mouthplates curling back to bare his lengthening fangs in a feral snarl. _You will suffer even more if I **do **take from you. _He vented heavily, the action hoarse and grating and audio-splitting in its obvious pain, as he shuttered his optics. _Breakdown, listen to me and do not interrupt me. I have limited energy._

"Fine." The navy blue leviathan leaned back, crossing his servos even as his defiance remained ever-present in his electromagnetic field. "Go ahead."

The assassin shifted, his wings scraping against the cement once more, harsh enough to make him flinch ever so slightly as the already frayed sensors were aggravated even more. _My sanity is slowly slipping, and my hunger grows. I cannot restrain myself much longer. Should I... _The matte black mech cut off suddenly, a violent tremor racking his lean and powerful frame, but he refused any form of assistance when the navy mech offered it and continued on once he regained his bearings.

_...s__hould I lose control of myself, I want you to assure me that you will not let me return to the warship. The only ones who know about my condition include you and Starscream, and Soundwave no doubt suspects something is off. _Deathstrike grimaced as his talons raked through his makeshift berth, shaking his helm as if in distress. _Breakdown, assure me that I will **not **make it back to the warship, as long as I am in this condition._

Breakdown narrowed his tawny gaze. "I cannot make you such promises," he began, raising a servo to stop the other from interrupting or protesting, knowing not to provoke the lightly slumbering beast, "But you know as well as I that I have to tell Starscream this."

_What good will telling that pathetic Seeker do? _Deathstrike hissed venomously, armor shifting like ink-stained water. _He cannot help, not in any way._

A warning rumble came from deep within the leviathan's chassis as a strange emotion flashed in his blazing golden gaze. _I don't know if you remember, but he actually confronted you when you changed on the warship and sedated you. _

_He did **what?**_ The assassin's annoyance reappeared, strong as ever as his optics blazed with a hellish light and his armor flared in unveiled aggression. _Why did you not do so? You know as well as I that I could have terminated him._

_I only didn't do it because you had inflicted so many wounds upon me that I could no longer think clearly. _The navy mech narrowed his optics, the thick emotions in his field spiking. _Energon deficiency does that to a mech if you didn't know._

_Doing such a thing will not improve my feelings toward him. _Deathstrike shuttered his optics, the slightest bit of tension leaving his frame as it began to relax ever so slightly. _Do you wish for me to contact the warship?_

Breakdown's optics widened as his engine stalled for a brief moment in shock. The emotion seemed to vanish too fast for the optic to catch up with, and the blue titan's engine growled in fury and distress. _Can you do that? Are you sure it won't make you worse?_

Deathstrike shifted, his olfactory sensors flaring as he intaked deeply. _I cannot give promises, Breakdown. If there is a chance, however, that I can, then we should take it. _

_Are you certain that this will work? I will not let you injure yourself any further. _Breakdown held his steady yellow stare, his defiance clear in the burning depths as he glared down at the other.

_Breakdown, it is a risk that **I **am going to take, not you. Your opinion cannot sway mine. _The enormous matte black mech shuttered his optics briefly before activating the communication link back to the warship.

The navy blue warrior shot forward to steady the assassin as black darted in and out of his vision, violent and unrelenting tremors racking the ice-cold and powerful body. In a flash, too fast for him to comprehend, Breakdown was pinned against the makeshift and ragged cement berth, Deathstrike looming over him as his fiery optics blazed with insanity untold and pure and unadulterated manic hunger. His elongated dentia were bared, and his talons tore through the other's armor in their ruthless grasp.

"Deathstrike..." Breakdown kept his voice low and even, aware that if he spoke any louder the beast would see it as a threat and would no doubt incapacitate him.

The assassin snarled viciously, his grip tightening so much that it crushed the heavier mech's thick armor. Breakdown remained motionless, not wanting to provoke his partner while at the same time not wanting to have to injure him or himself in any way. He had no more sedative and had not had it for a while, not since the Starscream incident in the assassin's lab, and there was a high probability that brute force would be needed to incapacitate the other. That is if sane reasoning did not work.

Suddenly the cold weight above him was relieved, and he cycled air throughout his frame to cool his systems. Breakdown could not help but wonder why the beast had relented under some unseen force, and he received his answer when his gaze locked onto his partner.

Deathstrike was farther away from him than he had been to begin with, leaning against the demolished remains of the human museum. Violent tremors racked his chassis as he cradled his helm in his shaking servos, his hoarse ventilations reaching his companion's audios. Dangerous heat radiated from the assassin's frame, circulating enough to gnaw at the edges of the navy blue mech's armor. In his weakened state, the assassin's telepathy was unrestrained, and Breakdown could hear every word and phrase that went through his processor, like a mantra...

_I cannot. I cannot. I cannot. I cannot._

The assassin reeled further back as his inner voice snarled at him, baring its fangs as its claws tore through what little sanity he had left. His frame shuddered violently and he shook his helm, snarling softly as the aching fire tore its way up his throat. His olfactories flared against his will, and the overwhelming and oh so _delicious _scent of Energon filled his intakes. The black mech's engines rumbled threateningly as the beastly hunger rose deep within him, threatening to overwhelm everything else.

_I cannot. I **cannot.** **I** **will not.**_

_Yes, you can. You are hungry...oh so hungry..._

_I will not! _Deathstrike gave a rumbling snarl even as the acid fire clawed at his throat and intakes, the maniacal beast writhing in sadistic fury as the taunt of a fresh meal wavered in its grasp.

_He is your prey...he will not fight you...he is weak and **pathetic** and oh so **delicious...**_

_No! I cannot hurt him! I **will not** hurt him!_

His armor flared from his lean and powerful frame as razor-like pain roared throughout him. He could feel what remained of his sanity slipping, and he knew it was only a matter of time before his corrupt refuel protocols initiated and allowed the beast to take over everything.

**_You have no choice._**

The navy blue warrior backed away ever so slightly as the assassin's telepathy relayed his vicious and Energon-thirsty thoughts back to him. He made sure to keep his distance, even as the matte black mech shuddered and went into another violent coughing fit.

Breakdown did not bother to hold back his slightly sympathetic grimace. He could only imagine what kind of pain, emotional and physical, that his partner was in.

Venting heavily, he turned away and put a digit to his communications link, aware of the burning crimson gaze carving its way into his back.

* * *

June Darby stifled a yawn as she drove in silence. She had been working a late shift, and it was well past the usual time that she arrived at home.

With a glance to the screen of her phone, with one eye on the road, she sent a quick text to Jack.

_On my way home. Be sure to unlock the door._

She waited for a moment, in complete silence that excluded the drone of the engine of her car, for him to respond. She knew that her son was a light sleeper, and the slightest of noises could wake him up. He always had his phone on the nightstand beside his bed, the volume raised so that he could hear it, and she knew that he would respond in a matter of moments.

A minute passed.

_He must be exhausted from work. He was dealing with all of those rude kids that come by and pester him._

Three and a half minutes.

_He is asleep, deep in whatever the teenage boy dreams about. He is only tired, that's all. He's tired._

Five minutes.

_He's tired._

_That's all._

_Nothing else._

Ten.

Her worry increased a thousandfold as she repeatedly glanced over at her phone. Its screen remained blank, and the notification light never sent its signal to alert its owner of a new message or alert.

Biting her lip, June made her decision as she reached over and dialed Jack's number. Realizing that her worry was going to affect her driving sooner than later, she pulled over and waited for the soothing rumble that was her son's voice.

_Hey, it's Jack. You've reached my voicemail, as you can see...or hear. Leave a message on why you want to talk and I'll try to get back to you as soon as possible._

Giving a heavy sigh, she ended the call and stared at her phone, as if a reply would magically appear on the small screen.

Her fingers were moving before she could stop them, and she dialed a number automatically.

The dial tone sounded for the slightest of moments, and then the thundering bass voice sounded.

_"June."_ The grave timbre of the large mech shook her body, making her restrain the shudder that always seemed to rise whenever the massive alien spoke to her. As usual, his voice revealed nothing of his inner thoughts, and he sounded as carefully composed as he always did. _"Is there something the matter?"_

The enormous alien male seemed to be oblivious to her worry, even as she remained silent. Her son was not answering his phone, and the Autobot Commander did not even seem to know about it...

"Optimus." Her voice shook, and she took a moment to take a deep breath and calm her nerves. "Is Jack with you?"

There was a moment of nerve-wracking silence, and then the powerful otherworldly being responded. _"Come to us, June. Do this as soon as you can; I am currently transmitting my coordinates. You must be here to witness this." _There was a moment of silence, and the mech's voice sounded in a softer tone, comparable to that of a human turning away their phone to speak to someone else. _"Contact Agent Fowler and bring him with you as soon as possible."_

Before she could even formulate a response, the line cut off, and she was left staring in shock.

What in the world was going on?

* * *

All was eerily silent. It was a dark and cool night, the moon blazing high above the small organics, and everything was still and calm. It was a normal day in the local Jasper, Nevada hospital.

That being said, no being, whether live or inanimate, made a single noise. They were all wrapped in the blankets of sleep or mere boredom.

The silence was a poison that stained the benevolent appearance of the once peaceful and benevolent, comforting noiselessness.

Such softness was immediately destroyed as the roaring of five powerful engines tore through it.

The nurses and receptionists near the clear glass doors looked up at the noise. A huge red and blue semi-truck rolled to a stop, and it was flanked by a small blue motorcycle, a sleek black and yellow sports car, a red and white ambulance truck, and an all-terrain SUV. The ambulance's sirens were screaming at full volume, no doubt signifying that there was an injury of some sort.

On the semi, the cabin door hissed open and a figure stepped out. It was a very tall male, well over the average height, clad in black jeans and a black and red plaid shirt, with a muscular build and heavy military-grade boots. Shoulder-length black-brown hair framed his handsome face, and unnaturally bright blue eyes blazed out of the shadows masking his face. An aura of authority and power radiated around him, and his facial expression revealed nothing of the thoughts going on inside of his head.

A slim female dismounted the sleek motorcycle. She was dressed in leather pants and a dark blue shirt, complete with the leather jacket rested against her shoulders. She took off the helmet that she was currently wearing and revealed her hauntingly angelic face. Dark hair highlighted with the occasional blue or pink stripe framed her delicate face, and her eyes were narrow and slanted to an almost exotic shape, burning with clear dislike and concern.

The green SUV and the sports car opened their doors at the same time, the vehicles' brakes hissing as they locked into neutral. Out of the all-terrain truck, a tall and muscular male stepped out, dressed in a dark green shirt and camouflage pants with heavy duty and seemingly military-grade knee-high boots. His hard and chiseled face held a grave expression as well as the rather obvious hints of worry. Beside him, a shorter and leaner male stood, dressed in black and yellow, his dark golden hair sticking out at strange angles and his hands wringing together in obvious anxiety as his aquamarine eyes darted back and forth.

The ambulance gave one final wail before the siren cut off, and the back doors to the loading bay swung open. A tall, lean man exited the red and white vehicle. Dark, reddish-brown hair, long enough to be pulled back into a ponytail, flowed in hazardous locks around his face. Full lips were pulled back in an irritated snarl, and gleaming white teeth were bared as bright blue eyes burned with an intense fire.

A group of paramedics rushed out of the hospital, dressed in the usual long white coats, with gloves on their hands. The one at the head of the group, a man of medium height with dark eyes and a powerful yet relaxed stature, spoke up. "What seems to be the problem?"

The man that was in the ambulance fixed his blazing eyes on the one who had spoken. "We have three injured, and one is losing blood rapidly. We need immediate admission for them."

The dark-eyed man crossed his arms. "I'm sorry, but you need to either work here or have the clearance to be inside our hospital. You can't just show up and expect us to let you in." With a wave of his hand, he motioned to the rumbling ambulance. "Your ambulance isn't even from any of the areas near here. In fact, I don't even recognize it, and I've worked everywhere." His eyes narrowed. "Where are you even from?"

The taller red-haired man narrowed his unnervingly bright eyes as he seemed to radiate menacing fury. "Admission my aft; I'll give you something to gripe about, you no-good, slagging..." His hands clenched into fists as he loomed over the other, teeth bared in a snarl and eyes burning with a venomous fire.

"Raleigh, that is enough." The towering male that drove in with the semi truck stepped forward, the muscles in his powerful arms and legs rippling with each step.

The man designated Raleigh turned and scowled at him, his cerulean eyes burning with a dark and cold fury. "We don't have to take this, Orion. We have the clearance; you know that."

The larger man's eyes flickered at the name, yet the humans did not see it. "But we do have manners, old friend. They are offering help."

Raleigh scoffed, crossing his arms as he glared down at the smaller men. "Are they, now?" His dark eyes bored into the paramedics. "It sure doesn't seem like that."

Before anyone could respond, the sound of yet another engine and squealing tires filled the air. A dark gray car sped into the arc-shaped parking lot of the hospital, screeching to a stop. The engine shut off and the doors were thrown open. An African-American man of medium height with graying dark hair stepped out, and following him was a tall and slim woman with long dark hair and wide gray-blue eyes dressed in long teal-green hospital garb.

The head paramedic scowled. "Did I miss the notice that we would have visitors today?" He fixed his bottomless eyes on the dark-skinned man. "Just who in the world are you?"

The man stalked towards him with such a sudden menace and irritation that it made the other move back slightly. Reaching into his back pocket, the dark man pulled out his wallet and flashed a badge. "Special Agent William Fowler. These men are with the military, and they have people who need urgent medical attention."

"We can't just let anyone in," the paramedic countered, seeming to grow irritated. "Why can't you understand that?"

The tall and slim woman stepped forward, placing her hands on her hips and leaning down to glare at the uncooperative doctor. "You don't seem to understand the meaning of _Special Agent, _do you?" She frowned and leaned even closer, enough to invade the other's personal space by much more than a margin. "It means that we can have one of the most powerful and influential United States Generals breathing down your neck every minute and every second of the day. He will watch your every move until this is approved, no matter how long it takes, and he will certainly not care whether you like it or not." She narrowed her eyes and poked the man in the chest with a nail that gave the impression of impersonating a talon. "So I suggest that you get over your ridiculous protocol and _let us in."_

The paramedic stared in shock at the larger human, seeming to grow irritated, before he relented with a sigh. "Very well." He waved his hand and the other paramedics rushed forward. "Listen closely. We have three injured, which means that I need three stretchers and a clear pathway to allow all of these men, and their woman, into our hospital. You have two minutes. Understood?"

They nodded and rushed away with the elder man trailing after them, shouting orders to the men now rushing around him and from the hospital doors.

The Autobots, Agent Fowler, and June were all left to watch.

"I never knew that humans could be such glitches." Bulkhead suddenly spoke up, a slight scowl on his face. "I don't think I've ever wanted to crush a human so badly."

Fowler gave a rare smirk, nodding at June. "Who would have known June could be so intimidating."

... ... ...

"Clear the way! I need complete space!"

The nurses and doctors that lingered in the halls turned at the sound of the urgent and authoritative voice. The head doctor and paramedic, a dark-eyed and irascible man known as Haydn Foxe, was making his way down the hall as he pushed an occupied stretcher. On the portable medical bed was a tall and long-limbed teen. His skin was deathly pale and his dark hair stuck to his face as it was drenched with a cold sweat. His right arm was twisted into a gruesome and bloodcurdling position, enough for the bone to stick out of the unnatural angle. A makeshift tourniquet was over most of the wound, while most of the blood had seeped into the young man's shirt and onto the stark white sheets beneath him.

Behind him were the other two paramedics, who were each rolling am occupied stretcher. One carried a young female a year or two younger than the taller, severely injured teenager, while the other had a young and short boy with oversized glasses and spiked brown-red hair. Both of them were unconscious, and each possessed numerous scrapes and gashes on their bodies.

Orion, Raleigh, Fowler, June, and the rest of the Autobots trailed behind, concern clear in their tense stances. Raleigh was taking in as much as he could, no doubt for emergency human medical purposes later, yet he somehow managed to do all of this while sending the humans in his vicinity cold glares.

"Raleigh, they aren't going to do anything to you." Fowler moved closer to the taller male, aware of the dark and brooding irritation that was radiating off of him. "They don't even know you aren't real."

Cerulean eyes, burning with a cold fire, locked onto the darker ones of the shorter human. "I would love to see any one of them try to find out if I _am_ real."

The head doctor in front of them turned a sharp corner, as well as the other two, into a section labeled _Critical Care. _The doors swung open and another man appeared. He was nearly as tall as Orion, with hazel eyes and a nearly emotionless expression that carved through the bangs that covered his eyes. Beside him stood a short and petite woman with the faintest traces of a smile threatening to appear on her mouth as she put on her surgical mask and gloves.

The paramedic gave a respectful nod to the elder man. "Doctor Richards. This young man needs immediate -"

"- I am well aware of what this young man needs, and he would have received it sooner had you not been the fool you were and took up my precious time." The higher-ranking doctor crossed his arms and glared with a cold fury that rivaled that of a certain alien medic, his voice stained with a distinct British accent.

"I apologize, sir. It won't happen again." The paramedic stuttered in something that was either fear or anger, and gave the stretcher over to the other man; his followers handed over their children to the short woman, who turned them and took them into the room.

"I'm the mother of the oldest." June spoke up, fixing her intense stare on the amber-eyed doctor. "I need to know what you are going to do to my son."

Doctor Richards turned to the woman, his face still eerily devoid of emotion. "This is the Critical Care section of the hospital, where we take severely ill and injured—"

"—I know what the Critical Care members do; if you can't tell, I am a nurse." The woman crossed her arms and glared at the taller man.

Slanted amber eyes blazed with a sudden light. "Your son is in need of stitches and possible surgery to repair his wound."

"Then we will stay to watch." Orion spoke up, his rumbling baritone voice sending a shudder through all of those close to him.

Richards turned his exotic eyes to the towering man, seemingly about to protest before Fowler flashed his military-issued badge and leaned close to the man.

"I can have you arrested for disobeying one of the most powerful men in the United States military if you continue to give him that look."

The doctor pressed his lips together before turning to allow them entrance. "Very well."

As the disguised Autobots entered the dimly lighted room, the red-haired man snarled at him.

_"Dumb aft humans."_

Richards decided that he did not really know what to say to that.

* * *

_"Starscream."_

The Seeker's optics widened as the rumbling voice of the navy blue leviathan sounded in his helm. With a glance to the ever-watching Soundwave and to the strange Seeker twins, he turned away and crossed his servos.

"Breakdown. The portal is open." He kept his voice a low murmur as his burning crimson glare swept over the land and the faint and haunted green lights of the ground bridge scattered their long and spindly fingers over the ship's deck. "Where are you?"

There was a moment of silence in which a muffled curse could be heard, and then the warrior responded. _"We are still at the organic museum. But we cannot come through just yet."_

The Decepticon snarled softly, his wings fanning the air in his rising irritation. "Is there a reason as to why you cannot come through?"

He knew that Breakdown was scowling as the silence returned for the slightest moment, tenser than before and stained with the deceptive hint of menace. _"Deathstrike has lost control and become feral. You know as well as I that we cannot allow him onto the warship." _His voice deepened a few octaves, and Starscream knew that Breakdown's expression was grave and controlled despite the storm of emotions that had to be inside of him.

At that statement, the slim silver mech's wings twitched and flared, rising high on his backstrut. "Did you not think to allow him to refuel before the mission? Did you know that this was bound to happen?" The Seeker narrowed his optics to dangerous slits. "Do you know how much danger we are all in now that your _partner _has given into his homicidal urges?"

_"I know what I didn't do, Starscream, so cease your incessant whining and just listen for once!" _The powerful mech snarled at him through their communications link, menace clear in his thunder-like voice.

There was a stretched moment of noiselessness, and Breakdown took the time to recollect himself; he was painfully aware of the fact that that the irascible Seeker would no doubt enforce his newly acquired authority and have him scrubbing the docking bay for quartexes. _"Do you have any more of the sedative on you?"_

Scowling at the twins and the spy as their curiosity was piqued, the silver mech hissed as he turned and made his way back into the warship, lingering in the darkened corridors. His presence automatically made the Vehicons that were conversing quietly among their ranks immediately scamper away. "No, I do not. The last time I used it was when—"

_"-__—__when you took care of Deathstrike the last time, I know." _Breakdown's voice was an irritated rumble, reverberating throughout the processor of the other.

It was then that the Decepticon lord heard the pained undertone in the leviathan's voice.

He slowed his pacing, his wings lowering ever so slightly on his back. "Breakdown. Are you injured?"

Silence answered him, and for a moment, Starscream believed that his communications link had been tampered with by Soundwave. The quietness spread between the two until the leviathan finally responded. _"Define injured. I seem to have forgotten what it means."_

"Breakdown, you can be such a Primus-forsaken fool sometimes!" The Seeker snarled at him, dentia bared despite the fact that he was alone. His talons sharpened and lengthened in their agitation as he shook his helm in irritation. "You let him attack you? Did you even think of defending yourself?"

_"Watch your tone, Seeker." _Breakdown rumbled at him, his powerful engine growling ominously. _"Unlike you, I actually care for those that I work with."_

Starscream snarled venomously, wings rising higher on his back. "That was a long time ago, leviathan, and I would watch your tone. I am still your superior."

_"Oh, stop playing the rank card! You act like such a high and mighty glitch! How does anything even get through that thick and conceited processor of yours?"_

The Seeker's optics burned with a furious and lethal fire. "We were well acquainted before the start of the Great War, and you know that. Long before _you _intervened and made matters worse."

Breakdown growled ominously. _"You played no part in improving his condition. I see no reason for your anger."_

Starscream flexed his talons, as if he were eager to tear into the unseen mech's chest armor. "You slag-eating, ungrateful little -!"

The communication link was severed suddenly from an outside source. Snarling in pure and unadulterated irritation, the Seeker whirled around, only to come face-to-visor with Soundwave.

"Soundwave." The Seeker flared his wings as he looked up at the tall and dark mech. "Are you not supposed to be waiting for Deathstrike and Breakdown on the docking bay?"

The master assassin played an audio feed in response. _"Deathstrike has lost control and has become feral. You know as well as I that we cannot allow him onto the warship." _Breakdown's rumbling voice sounded through the slim mech's external speakers.

Starscream hesitated ever so slightly as the slim yet extremely powerful mech leaned closer, clearly demanding an answer.

Fear and shock overwhelmed the silver mech before his scowl reappeared and fell back into place. "You will not be privy to such sensitive information unless I deem that you are capable of handling it." He snarled as he stalked past the taller mech, towards the end of the hall, before he stopped and looked over his shoulder panel. "You are supposed to be watching the ground bridge and awaiting the arrival of Deathstrike and Breakdown, are you not?" With a heavy vent, Starscream raised his wings ever so slightly and continued on, "Deathstrike and Breakdown require my assistance and my assistance only with something, and I expect to enter that ground bridge alone." His mouthplates curled back into snarl as he turned fully to glare at the former gladiator. "Do I make myself clear?"

The menacing aura surrounding the dark mech flared, its spindly fingers tracing over the edges of both of their armor, before he gave a slow nod and moved past the other, out onto to docking bay.

Starscream gave the other a pointed glare before entering the roaring portal.

It was a scene of destruction.

What remained of the surprisingly imposing human facility was in mere ruins. The building was barely standing, and its remains were either crushed or strewn across the abandoned parking lot. Chunks of cement and mortar were piled in a manner that similar to that of the corpses scattered across a decimated battlefield.

Wings rising high on his back, the Seeker increased his proximity scanner range as he made his way through the debris. His crimson optics burned as he took in the remains of some lone organic that had been caught and destroyed by whatever had done this, the tiny being's flesh charred and crushed and its filthy _organic _blood pouring out around him. He was clad in what seemed to be an authoritative suit of some sorts, or what remained of it.

Starscream scoffed and rolled his optics, his wings rising and falling with his disgusted ventilations. He went on to continuing his search.

When he came around the corner of the crumbling, what he saw startled him enough to make him freeze in his tracks.

Deathstrike was there, crouched over a massive and immobile object. His wings were raised high behind him, the powerful and sensor-laden panels possessing enough strength to rival his own, as they fanned the air in slow and deliberate movements. The matte black armor was stained with a glowing blue liquid that was eerily similar to that of the lifeblood his species possessed.

But that was not what startled the arrogant Seeker into silence.

Breakdown was on the ground, seemingly unconscious, beneath his partner. Numerous gashes, still leaking a profound amount of Energon, were scattered throughout the thick armor that covered his frame, the jagged edges hinting that both massive claws and fangs had slashed their way through the once protective metal.

The assassin's wings flared as he sensed the spark signal of his visitor. With a low snarl, he turned.

Deathstrike was covered in what was no doubt his partner's lifeblood. His fangs were extended to huge and razor points, and they dripped with the blood of his current meal. His talons were unsheathed and covered with the blue liquid as well. Burning crimson and black optics were narrowed in animalistic fury, one that was only present when a predator was defending a freshly caught meal from one that might try to steal it.

Starscream froze, his wings lowering to allow the mad Decepticon to realize that he was not an enemy. "It is okay, Deathstrike. Calm down and fight this."

The matte black mech snarled viciously, optics following the other's every move as he remained crouched over his prey. His wings were raised as high as the other Seeker had ever seen them, and it was a clearly vicious and extremely aggressive movement.

"Deathstrike." The silver Seeker's voice filled with a sudden dark authority that had even the beast confused for a moment.

Starscream gathered his courage and continued on, well aware that if he moved or spoke in the wrong way that the monster would come and devour him whole in pure and unadulterated aggression. "Cease these inconsequential actions and return to normal." He narrowed his optics as he received a feral snarl as a response. "You have injured your partner, do you not see? Would you ever allow yourself to do such a thing? Come to your senses, hunter, and release him!"

Deathstrike rose to his pedes in a graceful and deadly movement. The insanity and hunger blazing in the molten depths of the feared assassin's gaze was enough to make the former Second in Command hesitate ever so slightly.

"Would I ever allow myself to injure him?" The sleek black mech's deep voice was haunting, sending chills down the silver mech's spinal components. "Oh, yes, I would. I would harm him, if it was to satisfy the _hunger."_ A dark and demented laugh rumbled from deep within the hunter's chassis as his wings began to fan the air. "Oh, how I _yearn_ for the delicious lifeblood, that oh so satisfying sustenance. I have waited so long, but now..." He trailed off, a slight chuckle shaking his chassis. "...I am finished with my wait." Optics flickered with venomous rage as he moved even closer, the deadly movements possessing no noise whatsoever. "I am oh so _hungry..."_

"...and you smell so satisfying."

Before Starscream could comprehend what happened, Deathstrike was suddenly looming over him, and he felt an excruciating pain in his neck cabling before he gave into the ravenous darkness.

* * *

**Whoo! Super long chapter! I'm feelin' good! _It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life for me, and I'm feelin' good..._ Anyone know that song? :)**

**And for future reference, a list of the Autobot "Human" Names:**

**_Optimus Prime_: Orion Edwards**

**_Ratchet:_ Raleigh ****Montreuil**

**_Bumblebee:_ Rylan Harcourt**

**_Bulkhead:_ Grayson Court**

**_Arcee:_ Adalia Harcourt**

**Oh, and a question: How do you guys feel about a romance story? There is a very high chance that it won't be for this story, with the overall horror/mystery/suspense thing I've got going on. But I've been wanting to post a Transformers romance story for some time, but it comes out as angst/hurt-comfort and tragedy most of the time? Any requests or suggestions? I could do a certain pairing, it you wanted it...maybe with the main characters of this story? Pleaze let me know! (And define how detailed you want it...)**

**R&amp;R, pleaze! ****I apologize for the wait once again! Comments/concerns/suggestions always welcome!**

**Bye!**


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